Bracelets
by Alternative96
Summary: New feelings and experiences emerge as Gwen Scotts, a normal teenage girl, competes on a reality show from hell.
1. Ch1: Leaving the Resort

I woke up this morning coughing loudly. The windows were open, and smog from a tugboat or a truck or something was coming in. It got so bad; I had to run to the window to stop it from coming in. I opened the door to let the smog out of my room and hopefully into the hallway, down the stairs, and out of Playa des Losers.

I got up and looked outside to see what the hell made all that smoke. I drew the curtains back to get a better view. The smog was beating against my window, but I managed to see through the thick haze.

It was a bus. A little bus made all of this pollution?...damn!

I got my usual outfit on, and began to check the drawers for any forgotten items. Once I opened the top drawer in the bureau, a jewelry box fell out. It was light wood with an image of a flower carved into the top. It had a golden lock on it. I shook it to see what was inside. If it sounded metal, then it was simply some golden necklaces and such. It didn't sound metal. I was curious.

I ran over to my group of suitcases. The larger one was for clothes, the smaller one was for toiletries and stuff to dye my hair with. I went to the small one and dug in the front pocket to find a small bag filled with house keys and ponytail holders. It also held some nail polish, but I never used it.

I got out some smaller keys for diaries and such. I carried them to where the jewelry box is. There were four keys. The first key was small and gold, and had the appearance of a skeleton key. It didn't fit the size of the lock. I put it to the side. The second key was a little bigger and more modern. It didn't work. The third key was a little bigger than the second, and more ornate. I put it in the lock, turned the key, and it opened. My heart raced and I threw open the top of the lock.

Well, this was disappointing.

It was just a bunch of jelly bracelets. Then I remembered what they _really _were. They were those Love Bracelets from when I was about thirteen. The different colors represented stuff like kiss, make-out, sex, et cetera. I shrugged and put them on for the hell of it. I was dating Trent, but we kept it safe. We were both soft-spoken, and just dating at sixteen. He was sure that I was "the one", and I was sure too.

Not really, but almost. I'm a virgin and I'm not planning to "do it" until marriage, which was a decision always made, and sometimes broken without regret.

I'm confident I won't break that mental promise ("mental promise" is a term I use. It means that you make a secret promise, just something you're hoping not to do again, there are no papers or anyone else involved…not a very hard term to figure out).

I wore a few, and repacked my bags. Turns out I'm horrible at packing – I forgot my jewelry box, a pair of combat boots, my black Converse sneakers, my journal, and my hairbrush. I made the bed until, suddenly, I heard Chris yell through a bullhorn: "Season Two Competitors! The bus to your new location is here, you are due there in ten minutes!"

Well, I was already prepared, so I decided to go down now. After one more check, I closed the door and began to walk downstairs.

I stopped by Trent's room to see if he was still in his room. I opened the unlocked door to find it vacant. I quickened my pace to meet him at the bus. I boarded and looked around.

I saw Trent. Not saving an empty seat, but sitting next to Lindsay and in front of Beth. They were drooling all over him and asking him questions…about his love life, sex life, hobbies, the sorts. He obviously seemed uncomfortable with the two bimbos he was sitting with, and when he caught me walking down the aisles, he tried so hard to escape, only to be grabbed and once again seated by his admirers. He tried so, so hard.

I looked around. _Everybody _was sitting next to someone. Bridgette was sitting with Geoff, Izzy was sitting with Owen, Harold was sitting next to LeShawna…to her dislike. Even BETH was sitting next to JUSTIN. I repeat, _Justin. _The male equivalent of Heidi Klum, sitting next to the female equivalent of Napoleon Dynamite (who was sitting next to Beyonce). The only two people who didn't have someone to sit with were Duncan and Heather, who apparently hated each other with a burning passion hotter than the sun. Maybe Heather hated Duncan that way, but maybe the hate feeling wasn't mutual. I decided to sit next to Duncan, mostly due to the fact we got along so freaking well last season.

I came up and said, "Can I sit here?"

"Sure, as long as you don't fall asleep, lean your head on my shoulder, and drool on me." He replied. Smartass.

I smiled and rolled my eyes. My bags were in front of me, and I quickly got out my iPod, due to the fact I had "Everlong" stuck in my head.

I turned it on, and the album art for "The Colour and the Shape" immediately popped up. I turned the volume low, so if there were any alerts, I could hear them.

Soon, the bus took off, and nobody really talked. The only thing I could hear was Dave Grohl and the sounds of cars passing us on the highway.

Halfway through my song, Duncan leaned over and said, "Foo Fighters?"

"Yeah, I think they're pretty good." I responded.

"They are, I have that CD…" he nodded awkwardly. "It's pretty good."

"I know, I bought it on iTunes." I nodded back.

"Ah."

After a moment of awkward silence, he said, "…did you ever hear Nirvana?"

My eyes widened. Nirvana is my pot. I memorized every song, every beat, every note, every scream and every mumble.

"They're my favorite band…ever." I said smiling.

"Mine too, I wish they were still around." He nodded. Not so awkwardly.

"It's all damn Courtney Love's fault."

"What?"

"I believe that Courtney Love took advantage of Kurt's fame which pushed him to his suicide…I would love to see her in prison…" I smiled mischievously at the thought of her breaking rocks, the Botox oozing out of her lips, begging to leave.

"Good point, that's a really good theory…damn, can you imagine that music world today if Kurt was alive? It would be so much different…and better." He said. We were both slowly easing into the flow of conversation.

"We probably wouldn't have a lot of the rappers we have today. Thank GOD." I exclaimed.

"They all suck! They're annoying and repetitive, and it's not their voice! It's the voice of something a computer fucked up! That's why they never have concerts, it'll be a disappointment to their fans, who are probably all brain-damaged!" he ranted. I actually laughed. Why? I don't know. I heard and thought it times before. Maybe it was his tone.

"Gwen! Gwen…!!!" I heard in the front of the bus. I stood up and saw Trent frantically waving with a huge grin on his face. I began to wave – not as fast and happily as he did, but I did. I slowly and awkwardly sat back down. Duncan was laughing.

"Why are you laughing?!" I asked.

Holding back laughter, he said, "Your boyfriend is such a douche…" and began laughing even louder.

I whacked him in the back of the head. "No he's not! Trent's manlier than you!"

He began howling in laughter. "He's the one who writes James Blunt love songs on his guitar and waves to his girlfriends screaming 'Gwen! GWEN, OH DARLING GWEN!' like a Shakespeare nerd! However, I spend my weekends listening to hard rock while spray-painting skulls on the wall behind the Superfresh!"

I really couldn't beat that. Trent was soft, but not soft enough to be a douche.

I leaned over Duncan and looked out the window.

"Where the hell are we?" I asked.

Reading the signs, he answered, "Apparently we're going to Toronto. We're about ninety minutes away."

I fell back in my seat. I glanced at Heather. She was staring at me and Duncan. She still had that fugly mullet wig on. I narrowed my eyes at her.

"What are you staring at, Billy Ray Cyrus?!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, nothing, just the scenery…" she innocently replied, and looked forward. As a child, I learned never to play with the fire, or you will inevitably be burned. In this case, Heather was the fire, always burning the ones trying to put her out. I decided to keep a close eye on her.

I looked at my iPod again, and then Duncan. He looked bored.

"Want to listen to 'Blew'?" I handed him my left ear plug. I'd rather not give him the right one, which means I'd use the left one, and then our heads would be right next to each other, sparking Heather's immediate attention. God forbid, Trent saw, he would be on edge.

He shrugged and took the ear bud. I immediately scrolled through my music until I reached Nirvana. When I thought I looked just fine in front of him, I realized I forgot what album the song is on.

I sat there going to every CD I had – In Utero, Nevermind, Insectide, Bleach – until he finally said, "It's the first track on Bleach."

"Thanks." I said, and quickly scrolled to the album and chose the song. We sat there for another two minutes and fifty four seconds in utter silence and awkwardness. Then I asked, "Whatever happened to Krist Noveselic?"

"He's a bald politician." Duncan nodded.

"Sad." I said abruptly.

"I know…hm…what method of torture is Chris going to use on us this season…" he looked up at the ceiling. The conversation began to flow again.

"It's apparently movie-themed, so it'll probably have a huge range…" I said, in sheer terror.

"Fuck our lives." He said in a very disappointed tone. "Damn contracts! I would find and burn them, but he has copies of them…everywhere…"

"Everywhere?" I asked, confuzzled.

"Oh, believe me hon, I searched this so many times on Google." He leaned far back into his seat. "He has copies with his lawyer, copies with him, and copies in the computer…they're everywhere, Gwen, everywhere…"

"Probably in the U.S. Supreme Court…" I said. He looked back at me.

"You come from the United States?" he asked.

"Yeah, Philadelphia. Why, where do you come from?" That, I really wanted to know. Why? I have no idea. He was simply mysterious…some part of me was begging for more information about him.

"Camden." He nodded. So, he comes from a town with a very high murder rate. I heard that it's the second-largest in the nation. Why I am not surprised? I then realized something.

"Holy shit…Philly and Camden are pretty freaking close." I said in sudden realization.

"That's total irony man. God's fucking with our minds." He laughed under his breath. I admit, his sense of humor was somewhat off. I don't know if it qualifies to be humor. But I sort of shared it. I snickered with him.

I guess he was sort of one of my best friends. I mean, we shared the same taste in music, movies, everything. Our taste in people, though, was different.

He liked Courtney. The girl who always feels she is the best at everything, and everyone she leads will become victors. I was seriously considering the assumption that clearly _someone _never heard of the saying "rules were meant to be broken". Rules, in her mind, "were meant to be followed and obeyed to avoid the horrible consequences that will inescapably proceed."

What a communist.

And my friends are down-to-earth, creative people, such as Trent, Bridgette and LeShawna. Duncan was…creative…and rebellious. I mean, that's straightforward Generation X, Kurt Donald Cobain material right there. My friend criteria rules broke due to him being so close to me.

Holy crap, he breaks rules without even knowing it.

We continued the conversations about music, movies, and soon enough, the miscellaneous.

Such as Canada…

"Dude, I just thought Canada was simply a barren wasteland with bacon and syrup. Now I know it's full of freaks." He said. "I mean, everywhere I go, there's something you wouldn't see in the United States…like a sixteen-year-old Scottish girl who goes ape-shit for fun."

And location…

"I mean, I don't like much in Philadelphia. Just the art museum and culture. I don't like Rocky, I don't like sports curses. I'm usually just an isolated person. I find my friends at the museum and at school. There's not many of them." I said, angry at the fact nobody I liked lived in Philly. LeShawna lives in Quebec, and Bridgette lives in Miami.

"Camden's okay, the late nights are hellavuh good time, to be optimistic." He said. Without thinking, I said, "Are you part of a gang?"

"No, I go solo. I usually carry some pepper spray and a knife…"

And then we started to talk about criminal life.

"So what do you do at night being like…an outlaw?" I asked. I checked my iPod. Apparently, me and Duncan were talking through "Bleach" and halfway through "In Utero". Holy chizz, lots of Nirvana right there.

"Well…" he seemed to enjoy the topic. Too much. "I start off getting sticks and a rock or something…"

"Dude, you make shanks?!" I exclaimed. I loved making shanks. I used to make them as a kid, sitting on the blacktop and storing them in my lunchbox. It was good against the older boys teasing you for being an individualist.

"Well, I actually use the rock to sharpen my knife, and with that, I sharpen the stick to – yes – make a shank." He closed his eyes and smiled slyly. "Then, I usually vandalize the back of the supermarket..."

"Of course." I sighed.

"And, you see, it's not really my place to be, due to the fact I'm sort of a lone wolf. That's where the knife comes in handy. You see, only the serious gangs carry guns. That's in another part of town. In my part of the city, we have knife fights. I have some night-vision, you see. My vision and reflexes usually help me out in these situations." He began smiling even wider looking up to the ceiling. Illicit memories last forever, apparently. "And, when you win these knife fights, you will leave with a scar or two, which is the reason I wear a lot of long clothing, as you probably already figured out. But, the girlfriends of the gang members usually leave the pussies whose faces you hacked open and drool over _you._"

Typical, oh so typical. I laughed quietly. "This is your type of conversation, isn't it, Duncan?"

"Yes, it is." He nodded. "I do have some friends that hang out on the street. We don't fight together. We're just four solo criminals, you see. Rob hangs by the train tracks. That's where we meet. And he's the one with all the pot. Vick is the one with all the knives. Jack is the one with the gun and everything. However, I'm the strongest one, but all I have is a knife, spray-paint, and immeasurable shanks. So, really, if some mugger comes up, I'll cut his arms off, but otherwise, I can't do much."

Well, that was way too much information. "So, let me get this straight…" I asked. "You vandalize buildings, cut the hell out of people, have about twenty-seven girlfriends…"

"Correction, twenty-eight whores at my beck and call." He said proudly.

I said sarcastically, "Oh, I'm so sorry." I cleared my throat and asked, "How the _hell _are you simply on parole? And how doesn't he catch you?"

"Due to my family being in the police force, my mom – the police chief, actually – lets me off easy. My dad, on the other hand, wants me in Alcatraz." He laughed. I did, too. Alcatraz…not nearly enough discipline in my book. Maybe I was overreacting…I didn't know.

Suddenly, we heard a loud thump and someone go "GAWSH!"

Harold fell flat on his face on his way to the bathroom. Laughter boomed. LeShawna looked totally mortified. Not at the fact he fell, but at the fact she's sitting next to him.

"Smooth, Alpha Nerd." Duncan said sarcastically while slowly clapping his hands. I began to laugh harder.

Harold eyed Duncan and rushed quicker to the bathroom.

"Ha, what a loser. The kid has a hamburger on his shirt…what the hell?!" he exclaimed. I high-fived him. I always thought the same thing. Suddenly, the bus came to a sudden stop. Everybody screamed, and we heard Harold yell from the restroom, "Ew! It's seeping through my shirt!...aw, why does this always happen to _me?!_"

Duncan and I find ourselves laughing hysterically. The bus doors opened, and Duncan immediately hopped out of his seat, grabbed his duffel bags, and rushed off. I did the same.

So did that bitch Heather.

I walked behind Duncan, even beating out the people in the front. The bus doors opened, and we all walked out.


	2. Ch2: Arrival

"God, I missed the city…" Duncan said and walked out, clearly enjoying the heavy pollution that I thought only existed in the United States.

LeShawna carried her leopard print bags off, just simply looking at the town with a lot of interest.

I was dragging my bags down until Heather knocked into me. I caught my balance and looked back at her.

"Step off!" she exclaimed.

Offended, I yelled back, "_You _step off!" we began growling at each other like rapid animals until Harold (finishing up some Rubik's cube) knocked into us both and we all fell onto the hard pavement below.

"Gwen! Holy crap, are you okay?!" Trent yelled. He let out his hand for me to grab. I heard Duncan snicker behind me. He was right. Trent was somewhat of a douche bag.

"Um, yeah, I'm fine, just a little scraped." I replied and smiled. He did, too, and helped me up off the ground. The bus then rolled away, leaving a thick trail of fog. I then looked around. It was abandoned. Behind us was an abandoned lot with an uber-fancy gate. Some letters were missing, and the sign was impossible to read. Across the street was an old gas station. It was a Texaco, and ivy was growing all over the pumps and mini-mart. It didn't look like a very interesting show unless we were on "The Colony" or something you'd see on the SciFi Channel.

"M-maybe we got off at the wrong stop…?" I asked.

"That broken down bus only had one stop, and this is it." Justin said.

Then Beth went on about Chris being the Playboy torturer he was and Trent realized she got her braces off…Justin tried to act cool and hot until LeShawna shoved him out of the way and exclaimed "You look f-i-ine, girl."

"You really do!" I said. She was still…eh…but at least she had potential of being pretty. I mean, if I was in this situation, any compliment I got was greatly appreciated. I was always paranoid about my looks. I'm totally pale and fragile, like someone could snap me in half. However, I also looked like I could hack someone into sushi because of my style. I don't think I'd be able to chop someone, let alone hold the axe. But it was a good defense against the bitches and jocks.

Suddenly, a tram car – like the ones in Disneyland – pulled up. Chris was driving, when he introduced the set and the huge prize. I was excited about competing. It would allow me to get tuition and help my mom. She was a single parent, due to the fact my dad left us for some blonde Farrah-Fawcett lookalike and moved down to Atlanta.

I was only about four, but I remember my mom being heartbroken, even sometimes hyperventilating due to the excessive non-stop crying. I really hated my dad ever since. She's been struggling to get a job and keep the family afloat, but recently she got a job at diner by day and a waitress by night. She's okay, but due to the huge economic crisis, we were unfortunately expecting her to sink.

I really, really needed that money.

So, as we loaded our bags onto the tramcar, Trent saved a seat for me beforehand. Luckily, Lindsay and Beth were gushing over Justin instead. So I sat down. Duncan sat with DJ, who sat in front of Owen, who was calling for Izzy – er, Kaleidoscope – to board the tramcar.

"Izzy! Get on!" Owen called. Kaleidoscope was clearly ignoring the jolly, obese child. Until he smacked his forehead and said, "Whoops, I mean Kaleidoscope!"

She suddenly turned and yelled to the world, "_No_body leaves E-Scope behind!" And let out a jungle cry.

E-Scope…sounded like a gadget in a James Bond flick.

She then sprinted towards the tram – good Lord, she was faster than a cheetah – and hopped inside next to Owen.

Oh. My. Jesus. This girl was on serious steroids, or maybe she was Jackie Chan's long-lost Scottish daughter. Whatever she was, she wasn't "average".

Chris began giving us a tour of the set. There was the kitchen – where Chef Hatchet was, as usual, chasing some rodent out with the damn pan. Now, Chef always lived in tough conditions in the Vietnam War, and water was even more precious than platinum. He probably doesn't use it much, his body odor can tell you that. If he gets that rat stuck to his pan, he'll shrug, peel it off, and make an omelet. Well, that's just an educated guess, but I think I'm right.

Then, we came towards an open arena with a podium and golden statue.

"This is the Gilded Chris Awards, where you will eliminate one of your own after every elimination challenge. If you find yourself eliminated," Chris then put up his windows. His passengers got nothing, just the fresh, grimy city air.

"…you will board the Lame-o-sine and leave the set for good." The limousine in the driveway – which led to the part of Toronto with the huge buildings – was emitting more carbon monoxide than the bus. We found ourselves coughing, gasping for oxygen. I was going to _die _here. A slow, painful, breathless death was the worst way to go on national television.

He then introduced the trailers. They looked half-decent. I wouldn't mind spending a month here. If we don't have beds with insect larvae in the mattress, I would live. Air-conditioning would be nice too.

Next thing I knew, there were old-western buildings. Chris said, "The last movie taken here…the star had a little problem…"

Lindsay then exclaimed, "Oh no! Did she have a mental breakdown?"

"No, _it _was a mechanical MONSTER!" he said back. We looked around to find chunks of the buildings bitten off, and props totally destroyed. Suddenly, there was a huge roar. The floor actually shook.

I swear, I am _not _bullshitting you, it rumbled like the ground was going to crack.

"Come _on, _he's yanking our chains…" Duncan said optimistically.

Oh, how wrong he was.

The monster growled and knocked over a massive radio tower. No, Chris McLean was certainly not fucking around.

"Your challenge is to make it to the trailers without ending up in the Inflatable Moon Bounce of DOOM…" Chris began. Until there was a clear awkward silence. Maybe this would sound threatening if we were being thrown into a concrete dungeon, chained up to the wall, being whipped mercilessly (maybe that's what Duncan did with all those whores…sorry, I digress), but no. We fall into the "Inflatable Moon Bounce of DOOM".

"Come on, we're on a budget here!" he said. He cleared his throat and continued. "If you make it, you get to choose the trailer you and your roommates will stay in…_if _you complete Challenge Two, but I'll explain that later. All you need to do is run, children, run!!"

We then ran _straight _out of the tram. I immediately sided with Trent and Duncan.

"Gwen! We have to win this, let's go hide!" he exclaimed. We immediately dashed around, looking everywhere. I looked around. I wasn't exactly impressed.

"What, no explosions, no burning buildings…?" I asked. I looked back and said in a playful tone, "No bears?"

Suddenly, in the distance, there was a _colossal _explosion. A building exploded, burned down, and a very pissed-off bear was apparently inside.

This was too ironic to be even somewhat humorous.

We began running away, and Duncan parted. Hmm, I guess he was a solo artist. I stopped and looked around for him. Being alone while this massive Cloverfield-like monster prancing around, it was hazardous to be alone.

"Where's Duncan?!" I exclaimed. Trent stopped, his Reeboks skidding against the dirt road.

"Whatever, let's just get the hell out of the open!" he pointed towards DJ in the fetal position near a building. Lindsay and Beth were shopping Hollister Online via Blackberry.

How the hell can you even get service in the middle of freaking nowhere?! Instead of pondering about that, I ran alongside Trent. He spotted this old bank, and said, "That looks promising!..." and, exasperated, ran towards it. He motioned towards Lindsay and Beth to come in with us. They looked, giggled, and pranced right in with, like, ohmigosh, the hunk-muffin Trent!

Trent grabbed DJ and said, "Don't worry, bud, I gotcha!"

He proceeded to drag the poor guy in the building. That's why Trent was a good boyfriend, and not a douchebag like Duncan said. Pfft, Trent was just looking out for other people, he's too considerate to ignore.

After getting DJ in, the guitarist saw that we were, no, not hiding in a bank, but an alleyway with props and Dumpsters.

"Wait…so _everything _is fake?!" he exclaimed. Yes, Trent was wonderful for his sensitivity and his exceptional power of observation.

Suddenly, the monster came _straight _down and collected us all in his fist. The metal was cold, and the grip was so tight, breathing was almost impossible. We all wore confused faces. We all felt so sure of ourselves, we thought victory was only a short travel to the trailers away.

We were so wrong. We were dropped in the "Inflatable Moon Bounce of DOOM!!" and found ourselves with everybody but Duncan and Owen.

Thank God, he could win this. The monster came then with another victim…I spoke too soon. Duncan dropped in, looking too pissed off to even speak. I crawled over to him and said, "So, I see you lost…sorry."

He shrugged. "Oh, whatever…I'm the runner-up…that's something to be proud of, right?"

"Totally." I agreed. Suddenly, a jealous Trent came over and said, "So, Duncan, where were _you _hiding?"

"Behind that prop car in the alleyway you were hiding in." he smirked.

I playfully hit his arm. "Jackass!" I exclaimed, and starting laughing. He joined in. Trent stared with an envious glare. Not like a, "Gee, they sure are having a jolly time…" glare, like a "FUCK YOU TWO TO HELL!" glare. And he wasn't really that kind of person.

We stopped laughing and got slightly more serious. Duncan continued. "The monster grabbed me first, and now Owen's the only guy left. All he has to do is get to the trailers."

And so we wait for Owen to arrive. We wait…and wait…and wait.


	3. Ch3: Strange Dreams, Strange Appetites

I fell asleep. I was dreaming about a young, blonde boy running around a big, carpeted room with two sofas and a glass coffee table. It was probably his family's living room.

"Kurt, be careful!" a woman – most likely the mother – exclaimed. The kid slowed down.

The weird thing is, when I usually have a dream about something totally ordinary like this, I usually experience it a few weeks after. Like once, I was dreaming about putting up a curtain rod. A month later, when my room was being remodeled, my mom asked me to help put up curtains. I did so, and had serious déjà vu. It's happened a few other times, too. Or...hm…maybe I could be dreaming about Kurt Cobain. It was an odd possibility.

Instead of seeing who was in the family besides young Kurt, I was rudely awakened by a freaking bullhorn. We were all cuddling up to each other for warmth during the cold, Canadian nights, and we looked like a massive, human, fleshy blob. Every one of us panicked until we remembered:

It's Chris McLean. He screws with us on a regular basis.

We awoke, and found out that Owen still did not win. After another hour of waiting, an obese child was pulling himself towards the moon bounce. DJ and Trent were sitting by the edge, watching him.

"It took you ten-and-a-half hours to walk five city blocks?" Trent asked.

Owen was a chubby bunny, all right.

"That's just sad." DJ added.

Owen then reached into his pocket and pulled out a pin – where the hell did that come from – and popped the inflatable fortress. Due to all of our weight inside, it quickly deflated. People began crawling out. Unfortunately, due to my claustrophobia, I felt like I was going to pass out from shortness of breath. I felt the rubber closing in on me. I looked up – still gasping for air – when I saw a light. I inhaled deeply, and began regularly breathing. Duncan was holding it up so he could exit, saying "Why didn't anyone think of that last night?"

I began crawling out, inhaling and exhaling deeply. If it wasn't for this goddamned claustrophobia, I wouldn't be in this mess. I would be fine like everybody else. But out of the millions of phobias out there, God had to give me this one. I reunited with Trent when, looking around, LeShawna asked, "Where's Izzy?"

Like it was his cue, the monster gently let down Izzy from his hand. She then walked off and exclaimed, "Thanks for the date, babe! Don't _ever _leave me, because I'd find you!" Owen shot her a dirty look when Duncan said, "How did you manage to escape?" Izzy briefly answered, "Monster and I had a romantic date! He just wouldn't take no for an answer!"

She then calmed down and said, "Mm-hmm…pretty…crazy…I can't even tell you guys."

Chris then came up to us and said, "Good work! Now, are you ready for the second round?"

Everybody groaned. He was challenging us to death.

What other round did he have in store for us? I couldn't deal with this; this was too much for today. I felt like I was a near-death situation, my boyfriend is jealous of my best friend (…I think) and I'm stuck in the middle of scenic nowhere.

This season was not going to go well.

We came to the Mess Hall. There was food lining the tables. It looked mouth-wateringly tasty. I was salivating just looking at it. Everything looked so juicy, and under those little lights hanging about two-feet above the table, the juices looked shiny. The huge turkey in the middle of all this – like a centerpiece – looked so delectable. It was like that massive buffet we had before the Awake-o-Thon…only better.

"This looks like it came straight out of a commercial!" Geoff exclaimed. His arm was around Bridgette, like always. They were like strong magnets, always attracting each other. And even when you put them on opposite ends of the Earth, they'll stick find their way back to each other.

Then, a starving Owen hastily said, "Oh, food! Sweet, sweet food!" and then leaped at the food as if he were the lion…and the buffet table – the zebra.

He began chewing away at the food, practically shredding the meat and skin off of every food there. He then picked up a bowl of broccoli, threw it behind him with an annoyed expression, and then promptly grasped the turkey – the stunning, juicy, warm turkey – and ate it in virtually one massive gulp.

Duncan, LeShawna, and Chris exchanged worried looks. They didn't even get along very well. _That _was saying something.

After he was done, Owen was found on the table with too much constipation to be bearable. We were all staring like, "What the fuck?" as Chef Hatchet was getting the poor, corpulent kid some Tums.

"Owen! The man of many appetites…how was it?" Chris asked. He sounded rhetorical.

"The turkey was slightly…" he burped and continued, "…dry."

"That's because the food was fake!" Chris exclaimed. Owen looked somewhat horrified while Duncan was trying so hard to contain his laughter. I was just staring like, "He has a stomach of steel, dude."

Chris continued. "The food was made from foamcore, silicone, sawdust and wax. The object of the round was to find the key."

Owen belched out a shiny, golden key with bits of foamcore stuck on it. I was two minutes away from throwing up. It was disgusting.

"This key?" Owen asked. Chris nodded and took it from the constipated boy's hand.

"Do I win?" Owen exclaimed.

"Yes. Yes you do."

"ALL RIGHT!"


	4. Ch4: An Easy Decision

We stood at the trailers as Owen decided between a perfectly-fine trailer…and a squashed one. The girls were disappointed. His choice was clear…

"I choose the squished one!" Owen exclaimed. The guys began to complain while we girls celebrated.

"What are you guys complaining about?" Owen asked optimistically. "It has more character!"

Then, a huge foot came down and destroyed the other one, too. We stopped celebrating, wondering what the hell the sleeping arrangements were.

Luckily, two trailers were rented for the remaining six weeks. Chef was touching them up while Chris said, "Well, welcome to your new home! Get settled, choose your bunks, and be ready for quite an early wake-up call."

We dragged our bags into the trailer and looked around to see just a plain room. Heather immediately put her bags toward the east.

"I need the bunk closest to the ocean." Heather explained. "It brings color to your skin."

"That's the stupidest thing I ever heard!" LeShawna exclaimed. "It's Toronto! We're nowhere near the ocean!"

"Let's not fight for the remaining six weeks! We need to wake up early, so let's just please choose the arrangements and go to bed!" Bridgette exclaimed. Finally, a reasonable argument. Until LeShawna said, "Oh, what, you want to wake up for you and Geoff's early make-out session?!"

"Yes!...oh, wait a second…" Bridgette began thinking.

Lindsay – the oh-so idiotic Lindsay – said, "Let's draw makeup brushes!"

"That's…not a bad idea." I said. Surprisingly intelligent when it comes to makeup. Beth nodded and said, "The longer brushes choose first. The shortest brush shares a bunk with _Heather._"

Dear God, don't let me be stuck with Heather. We all got our brushes. Beth and Lindsay are sharing a bunk (an unbelievable twist of fate), LeShawna and Izzy are sharing a bunk, and me and Bridgette and sharing one as well.

"So…I have two beds all to _myself_?" Heather asked. She began laughing while Bridgette said, "We need to work on our math."

The laughing continued for another four minutes.

We all fell asleep. I didn't have any odd dreams this time. Then, we all woke up to Chris's loud bullhorn: "CALL TIME IS! 4 AM!"

As we all began to panic, Chris said, "It's cool, you can sleep…for now."

We all groaned and went back to sleep…until Owen farted for about six seconds.


	5. Ch5: Damned Eggs

**A/N: Sorry, the story isn't going so well at first. I think Gwen is slightly OOC, and this is all from one person's perspective, so please bear with me. I'm going to change it up from this point on like a true fanfic. Ha, um, ahem…so, shall we tumble onto Chapter 5?**

I woke up as the day broke…or should I say, my eardrums broke due to that goddamned bullhorn. We all got up and put our regular clothes on. My feet were killing me, so I got out my Converse and put them on. I began posing in the mirror until I said to myself, "Hm, these don't go well with tights." And put them back. Besides, Duncan wore this kind of footwear. I didn't want Trent to think I was copying the kid now.

I went outside – it was still dark out, for God's sake – and went to the Mess Hall. They were serving scrambled eggs and toast today. The eggs actually weren't bad-looking. They weren't burnt and black…I didn't even mistake them for coal this time.

Of course, Bridgette and Geoff were making out in front of Duncan, Trent and I. This continued until Duncan simply cut in front of them saying, "Keep the line moving, lovebirds."

I decided to follow. Trent did as well. Of course. Duncan simply looked at the eggs and said, "I forgot how hungry I got last year on Chris's horrible schedule…"

"I _know!_ It got to the point where I actually looked forward to eating Chef's disgusting food." I looked forward to see a very pissy cook looking my way.

"Er…no offense, Chef." I walked forward. He stuck out the spoon in which he served the eggs and coldly said, "None taken…"

He then purposely dropped my lovely scrambled egg on the floor. I awkwardly walked away. So, while I was starving (admiring beautiful, artificial, silicone turkey got you hungry), my poor egg was sitting on the floor, being treaded on. My stomach rumbled when Duncan said, "You can have my toast, bigmouth."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "Judging by your gut, I thought you'd be all over the extra carbs."

He laughed and said, "Nice." Next, a strangely clingy Trent ran up and said, "You can have my toast, Gwen!"

Kidding, I said, "Sorry, I don't accept enemy toast."

Shocked and hurt, Trent exclaimed, "ENEMIES?! We're not enemies, Gwen! Are we?"

I patted his back. "Of course not! You're my boyfriend." Duncan rolled his eyes and we proceeded to sit down.

Then, Chris pranced in and said, "Hello castmates of _Total…Drama…Action!"_

Aggravated, Duncan asked, "Are you going to say that everytime?!"

"Yes. Yes, I will." Chris smirked.

"…all right, then." Duncan shrugged.

"Today's challenge is an alien flick." Chris explained. Duncan's face lit up.

"Wow, um, sorry, losers. _Nobody _knows an alien flick the way I do!" he bragged. Two can play at that game. I started quoting Captain Maxwell Gitts from _Alien Chunks._

"No way, that's from _Alien Chunks_!" he exclaimed. "That's my favorite movie of all time!"

"I've seen it thirty-nine times." I raised an eyebrow. Beat _that_, Duncan.

"Fifty-two!" he exclaimed.

"Oh, you're going to be tough to beat." I said.

Trying desperately to fit in, Trent said, "Oh, uh, I like that alien movie where they try to take over the government!"

Duncan laughed and said, "Wow, you're going down first."

Trent looked very upset. "But, it was a good movie!" he then turned to me and asked, "Gwen?" with soft, pleading eyes. I really didn't know what to say. Trent's alien flick was probably the most clichéd plot in history, while Duncan had a so much knowledge of this movie genre. And I knew who was right – it wasn't my _boyfriend._ I simply answered by saying,

"Um…okay…this is really, really awkward…"

Chris continued. "You will be trying to retrieve eggs from the alien spaceship. There will be two winners, and they will get immunity, and a reward!"

"Pffft, that sounds easy enough." Duncan said. Over-confident, much?

"Tut-tut-tut!" Chris said. "There is a catch! You will be running away from Mama Alien, who will try to shoot you with a paintball gun…_while _you will be retrieving your eggs! Mama Alien will be played by our very own Chef Hatchet!"

We all turned to Chef, who was dressed in an alien costume. Someone snickered, to which Chef growled.

"Um…I don't think we have enough slime on him. MAKE-UP! More slime!" Chris yelled.

Just then, a massive glob of slime fell on Chef's head. As it oozed all over him and onto the floor, he growled, "I hate my life."

"Here, you will need these tracker devices…they will help you find the location of the eggs." He gave us the devices, and then motioned us to follow him. We did so.

As we were walking, Duncan and I kept chatting about our favorite movie. Trent just kept following along, spitting out a usual "uh-huh" or laughing along. And then Duncan goes, "It wasn't that funny." And then Trent goes, "Oh, sorry."

We came to an old building, but inside, it had metal all over, like we were in the U.S.S. Enterprise or something. Chris then blew a whistle, and said, "RUN, CASTMATES, RUN!!!"

Me, Duncan, Trent, and DJ immediately ran to an empty spot where we could make up our game plan.

"Where the hell would these eggs be?" Trent asked, out of breath.

"Uh…let me pick up a signal…" I walked around with the GPS device. It wasn't working well. "These aren't going to work if we're indoors…it can't pick up a satellite."

Thinking, DJ suggested getting on each other's shoulders so we were closer to the sky. It may work. DJ was at the bottom and said, "Well? Who's second?"

Duncan said, "Um, I don't want to strain out your back…so how about Gwen gets on your shoulders, and if it doesn't work, we'll Trent will go between you two, and if _that _doesn't work, I'll go between you and Trent?"

I nodded. Trent shrugged, and DJ said, "Okay, Gwen." He crouched over and let me climb on his shoulders. I held the GPS up, but still no signal. DJ sighed, crouched down again, and let me off. Trent got on, and then I followed. I held the GPS up when I suddenly saw an arrow pointing to the northeast.

"I got it! We have to go…um…left, right…right, left…" I began reading the directions when DJ lost his balance. He fell forward, and Trent fell back. I fell even farther back, and, luckily, Duncan caught me. Unlike my skin, his was warm…it was weird, how doesn't work, I'll go between you and Trent?"

I nodded. Trent shrugged, and DJ said, "Okay. You ready, Gwen?" He crouched over and let me climb on his shoulders. I held the GPS up, but still no signal. DJ sighed, crouched down again, and let me off. Trent got on, and then I followed. I held the GPS up when I suddenly saw an arrow pointing to the northeast.

"I got it! We have to go…um…left, right…right, left…" I began reading the directions when DJ lost his balance. He fell forward, and Trent fell back. I fell even farther back, and, luckily, Duncan caught me. We just sort of awkwardly stayed like that for another second or two until I got up and said, "Th-thank you."

"…no problem." He responded.

I checked the GPS. We lost the signal again.

"Let's try it again…" Trent suggested while DJ and I cut in, shouting, "NO! No, we are NOT falling over again!"

I then said, "If boiler rooms are warm, we should try to find the warmest spot in the –"

At that moment, we heard a gunshot, and someone scream, "_Noooooo!!_" Next thing I saw was a bald Heather running amuck with a cameraman following her. She turned, saw him, and screamed, "_Don't look at me!!!_"

I began laughing as we continued to find the boiler rooms.

After about an hour, we finally found it. It was scorching hot and all the eggs were in a hole in the floor. Trent held me by my ankles and told me to get four of them.

As I got the four, I distributed one to everybody. Suddenly, the door opened, and a very angry cook came in with a paintball gun larger than myself. We all immediately screamed and ran. The first person Chef Hatchet shot was DJ, who fell. The egg broke and the yoke splattered all over his face and shirt.

"Leave without me!" he called. "SAVE YOURSELVES!"

Outside, we found a lovely, summer day and Chris in a helicopter. He yelled, "To protect you from the toxins in the alien eggs, the government has been called in to confiscate the eggs and clean you of any intergalactic materials!"

Confused, Trent yelled, "Isn't getting the eggs the whole point of this challenge?!"

"Yes, we just like making it harder for you three to win!" he called, and released a massive bomb full of that ooze to capture us. Trent grabbed me and dragged me out of the way behind a barrel.

Which left poor, poor Duncan to be bombed. I put my arm out to drag him behind, too, but Trent pulled my arm in and said, "You want to win, don't you?"

The bomb went off, and the paint flew everywhere. I could see it go against all sides of the barrel and onto the fake building behind. It was miraculous that the barrel didn't break. We both got up. The place has been destroyed.

Duncan was actually still alive and well, but covered in the slime. He asked, "Does this mean I lost?!"

"Too bad. So sad." I smirked. He laughed and said, "Oh, woow…"

I then put my hand on my neck to realize – my_ Alien Chunks _Special Edition Necklace was GONE.

I shouted, "OH NO! My necklace!" Trent frantically looked around and saw it going down a sewer. He then spotted two eggs about to fall off the board. So it was either between the win, and my favorite necklace.

His choice was so clear. He was the sweetest boyfriend ever…

Who went for the eggs instead of the necklace.

I stood there, tearing up. My prized possession went down the sewer. With dirty water, soda cans and toxic waste. The necklace cost me sixty dollars on eBay, and now it was gone forever. I couldn't move. Trent then handed me an egg. I then said, "Why didn't you get the necklace?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a million dollars? With it, we can plan out our whole life." He responded. I couldn't answer. That necklace was priceless to me. I had it for years. It went through everything I did. I felt like jumping in there and getting the necklace myself, but I couldn't.

It was gone, and I couldn't even replace it. It wouldn't be the same.

**A/N: Oh, wow…Trent's such a good boyfriend! Wow…ha…Well, Chapter Six won't come out for a while…but whatever. The REALLY Rated M stuff won't come until after a while, so stick with!**


	6. Ch6: Elimination

**A/N: Well…the story is going to go a lot faster now, I'm trying to be more detailed…*sighs* Some parts are going to be hella awkward…ha…so it may be hard writing from Gwen's perspective.**

Trent and I began walking to the trailers with our goddamned eggs. Duncan followed along, dripping in slime, eyeing me with jealousy every so often. After about three glares, I asked, "Why the hell are you so angry?"

I was expecting him to say something about the eggs. Instead, he said, "You and Trent aren't covered in this shitty slime! It's disgusting!"

"Sorry, Duncan." I said.

"It's fine." He sighed. The trailers were in sight. I began walking with my stupid egg. I came up when Chris said, "Congratulations, Gwen and Trent! Do you want to know your reward?"

"Of course!" Trent exclaimed. He seemed happy. I can't believe he didn't realize how crappy I was feeling and how much that necklace meant to me. I stood there, just nodding to show I'm still alive.

"The reward was to be captains of your own team. Now, Trent and Gwen will go against each other!" Chris exclaimed. Everyone gasped. "And, _two _of you will be going home tonight!" We gasped again. "I'm _really _liking the two's today. It must be Tuesday."

Nobody laughed.

"I don't get paid to write this show." Chris said, annoyed. "So, get ready, get the slime off of yourselves…"

Duncan looked at his shirt and growled.

"…and get ready for the Gilded Chris Ceremony!" Chris finished.

He then walked away as everybody (but Trent and I) headed for the shower. I went into the girls' trailer.

"Gwen! Do you want to sit down and talk?" Trent offered. I shook my head 'no', and continued to walk inside. I sat on my bunk (which was on the top), and put my hand on my neck. I began tearing up, trying hard not to cry, but I couldn't help it. I spent so long trying to find that necklace. I was proud of it, I paid more than I should've, and it's my prized possession. And Trent didn't even care to get it for me. It was worth more than a million dollars. It was priceless to me.

I wanted to break up with him, but I needed to give him another chance. I wasn't a bitch.

I shifted my thoughts to that dream I had a few nights back. I don't know why I was so worked up over it. Maybe it's because I never had a dream as weird like that. I didn't know any toddlers. And I doubt I'd ever have a blonde kid at all if that's the case. My natural hair color was chocolate brown, and so was my mom's. My dad's was apparently a lighter brown.

After a short nap, I grabbed my makeup bag and went to the bathroom. My mascara was probably running. I ran in there, and looked in the mirror. It was.

I washed it off with warm water and opened my cosmetics bag. Inside, I couldn't believe it.

It was my necklace. A note was attached on it:

"I got your necklace while Trent got the eggs. You didn't notice…you're very inattentive. –Duncan"

Still in shock, I put it around my neck. I smiled at it, and reapplied my makeup. Even though I was very happy, I was pissed at the fact Trent _still _didn't go after my prized possession. My best friend went after it.

I was starting to believe my best friend was better than my boyfriend.

Once my makeup looked fine, I decided to start walking to the ceremony. It started in four minutes. I quickened my pace and sat down next to Trent.

Chris went to the podium and said, "Welcome to the very first Gilded Chris Ceremony. Where not one, but two of you will be eliminated tonight! As you see, we have new electronic voting devices! So cast your votes _now!_"

I turned to see Geoff and Bridgette making out. I felt that if they were on the show longer, they'd continue this forever. And if we voted one of them out, they'd be too heartbroken to be useful. Even though Bridgette was one of my best friends, I had to admit, she was a whore these days. I voted them both off.

There was a short beep and Chris announced, "All the votes have been casted!"

Chef Hatchet then arrived wearing a pink dress made out of thin, transparent material…it was scary. He held a tray of Gilded Chris awards. Somebody snickered, and he just growled again.

"Okay, our first two awards go to Gwen and Trent…" Chris announced. He threw me and Trent a Gilded Chris.

"Now, Lindsay…Beth…Justin…" he said. Lindsay and Beth squealed and hugged Justin…until Lindsay's award hit her in the jaw. She fell unconscious. Chris didn't seem to care and proceeded.

"Duncan…surprisingly Heather…DJ…Owen…Izzy…" Chris continued.

"IT'S E-SCOPE!!" Izzy exclaimed. Chris glared at her and said, "Fine. E-Scope. Um, and then there's Harold…"

The final three contestants were Bridgette, LeShawna, and Geoff. The mood was tense as everybody eagerly waited the results of the voting.

"The final Gilded Chris of the night goes to…" Chris announced. A small, dramatic fanfare played before Chris proclaimed LeShawna to be safe. She began eagerly cheering, hugging Bridgette and Geoff until she said, "Oh, sorry!"

Heartbroken, Bridgette stuttered, "B-B-but I thought everybody liked us!!"

"Pffft, 'like' being the operative word." Duncan spat.

Geoff and Bridgette, saddened by their early elimination, looked at each other for a minute, and then shrugged it off. Once again, they began making out.

Gushing, Lindsay said "Aw! Cutest couple ever~"

Alternatively, Duncan exclaimed, "Get a room already!"

The couple stood up, and walked to the Lame-o-sine. All while kissing. They soon fell into the limousine. The door closed, and it drove away.

"So, that concludes tonight's episode of TDA!" Chris declared to the camera. "Will E-Scope ever answer to her real name? And will Owen get some lunch?"

"Thank you!" Owen called from the stands. I sighed. Classic Owen material.

"Find out next time – with Total! Drama! Action!" Chris wrapped up the show, and then turned to us. "Well, get some shut-eye. Tomorrow, the teams will be chosen!"

Everybody then got up. I sighed, and started walking to the trailer when I stopped, and turned around towards Duncan. I slowly walked up with a half-smile on my face and said, "Thanks…for saving my necklace. You don't know how much it means to me…"

"Oh, don't mention it…" he said. "It was slipping, and I knew Trent was going to go for the win…you know, he wants everything for you and him."

I froze. "He's winning the money to start…a life together?"

"Yeah. He thinks 'you're the one', all that jazz." Duncan looked up. "The boy's only sixteen…I'm just warning you, Gwen…if you and him split, he won't be able to cope with it. So, just take me saving your prized possession as a friendly gesture. Because Trent was put under pressure. He wasn't thinking."

I looked up at him. "How do you know? Did you talk to him or something?"

He shrugged. "I dunno…I have a sixth sense about this shit. Believe me…he didn't go for the win to be covetous. He went for you."

I nodded. "I get it. Thank you."

"So, take what I gave you, and run with it…okay?" he put his arm around me reassuringly. I turned it into a friendly hug and said, "I will. Thank you...you don't know how much I needed to know that...but I just have one little question…"

"If you went for the egg…do you think Trent would go for the necklace?" I asked. "I mean, would he think to go get it? Or would I have to remind him of it?"

"He would get it for you immediately," he said softly. "He'll do anything for you; he just loves you that much."

"You're a really good friend, Duncan. Thanks again." I smiled, waved, and walked to my trailer.

Once inside, I got into my pajamas, climbed up to the top bunk, and fell onto the bed in exhaustion. I turned on my iPod and thought about today's events…

Today, I realized that Duncan's looks were deceiving. Honestly, I found that out before, but this time, I really grasped that fact. I mean, at first glance, the skull-shirt and mohawk put out his mean, criminal side. It was deceiving, a kind of person nobody would take the time to associate themselves with (well, Duncan was a person an orderly person wouldn't usually associate themselves with). But, once you really dig deep, and befriend him, he releases a side that he tries so hard to conceal. It was the side of him I sort of expected. I mean, everyone has a heart, and sometimes you have to go through multiple layers to find it.

To add, I found out that Trent cares for me. He cares too much (according to Duncan's "sixth sense"). I mean, I care so much for Trent. He's my first real boyfriend, but we're only sixteen and he acts like he's absolutely sure I'm the one for him. I'm not saying I don't want to be with him for a while. I really do, he's amazing. But I feel he's going to fast. He's winning this money "for us". That is incredibly generous, but I was originally winning this for my mom, my college fund, everything for Gwyneth Caroline Scotts and her family. I wasn't planning to give any to Trent. I thought Trent was competing for money to start up a record deal, go on tour, etcetera. I'm sure Duncan wasn't winning for Courtney; he was probably getting…bail money or something. Nobody was winning for their "beloved other".

Whatever…I just didn't want to break up with him. I probably won't have any one that would care for me this much. Since dating Trent, I felt very optimistic about my appearance and character, knowing that there's someone out there who loves you the way you are and wants to spend his life with you when you spent sixteen years looking for him. I felt that I was the luckiest girl in the world. But now, after he chose the win over the necklace…I mean, I feel happy, it was a win-win situation. But I still can't overcome the fact two prop eggs mean more than a necklace that means the world to me. I had to rely on my best friend for that. Isn't a boyfriend supposed to be sweeter than your best friend?

I decided to turn of my iPod. The soft chirping of the crickets lullabied me into a deep sleep.

**A/N: I don't know if "lullabied" is a real word…is it? I mean, it makes sense! Ha! Well, I don't know whether to have more culture in this story…like, not the Jonas Brothers or whatnot, I'm talking metal/grunge/rock culture (Nirvana, Escape the Fate, Slipknot, etc.) I need feedback, peoples! So…Ch.7 is coming soon…I think…so, peace around the world for generations! ~..happy~**


	7. Ch7: Why, Knife, Why?

**A/N: I ultimately decided some more pop-culture references would be cool. Mostly rock references, because that's what I excel in. Oh, and, um, update…I'm going to wait until each TDA episode premieres so I don't have to improvise challenges. For example, when "One Million Dollars, B.C." airs September 10, I'll **_**immediately **_**begin to write that chapter, and next week, I'll write about that episode, and so forth. Get it? Very well, then. Let's proceed.**

I was quietly sleeping, dreaming about something I really can't recall. It was a comfortable sleep, until the sound of a loud horn woke me up. As I jumped up, totally spooked by the loud noise, I hit my head on the ceiling. I hissed due to the pain, and put my hand over the bruise. I leaned down and called toward LeShawna and asked, "Can I borrow the little mirror you keep with you?"

She looked up and said, "Sure, baby girl. Why?"

"I hit my head on the ceiling." I sighed.

"Ooh, that's what that sound was. Here, let me get it out." She said, looking quite concerned. She got up and started digging in her bag. After a moment or two, she took it out and threw it to me.

I quickly opened it up and looked at my forehead. There was a massive, purple bruise. I sighed. It was horrifying. I started playing with my hair, trying to cover it up. I covered up some of it with my side-bangs, but it only concealed a small part of the discoloration. I sighed again. This would have to do.

I got up, grabbed my usual outfit, and applied my makeup. I then spotted my necklace in the mirror, and began to run my finger down the chain. The words "take this as a friendly gesture" kept ringing in my mind. I did, but this necklace was (as I mentioned countless times) my favorite thing in the world. I couldn't wrap my head around the fact that getting my prized possession, a priceless item, was just a friendly gesture to Duncan, and two cheap eggs to win a small challenge so early in the competition was the best thing Trent could possibly do.

And it _backfired. _We were on different teams; we couldn't work together as a team as we usually would. We had to make new acquaintances and friends to be on our team, and fight against the other.

I was nervous. My legs were shaking, as if they were going to collapse. I slowly began making my way outside, when I exclaimed, "Oh!" and returned LeShawna's mirror. It almost slipped my mind.

When I was outside, I caught sight of Trent, I waved, smiled, and walked towards him.

"Well, this is it." I said quietly.

"Yup…wait, we're not going to get competitive or…blood-thirsty, are we?" he asked. He was sort of shaking.

"Absolutely not!" I reassured him. "This is just a silly little competition. Believe me; our relationship is worth more than a million dollars."

"Thank God." Trent sighed in relief. I began to walk away. Chris McLean was standing between me and Trent, and we were prepared to choose teams.

"Okay, Trent, Gwen, are you ready to choose your teams?" Chris asked.

"Sure…I think." I said awkwardly. I wasn't ready to go against Trent. Hell, I wasn't sure if I ever wanted to go against him.

"Well, you guys are going to choose schoolyard style. Boy, girl, boy, girl. So, Gwen, you can start." He pointed to me.

Being on the spot, I looked around at the guys. There was the ever-soft DJ, the nerdish, useless Harold, the hefty, unfit Owen, the self-absorbed Justin, and the strong, criminal mastermind Duncan…who also turned out to be my best friend.

"I choose Duncan." I said, and pointed to him. He smiled and walked on over to my side. Trent looked absolutely crushed. Well, if he was available to choose, he would definitely be my number one. He knows that. But, he's not.

A jealous Trent then pointed to Lindsay and said, "Well, _I _choose the beautiful Lindsay!" She then gasped, and exclaimed, "Hooray!!"

So, Trent thought I was choosing Duncan because I liked him?! He was totally off! And he had to go so far as to call her "beautiful". I thought I knew Trent, and I thought he knew me and my thoughts about people. Apparently not.

Now, this was war. I said loudly, "Because I like to keep things cool, I pick LeShawna."

Clearly flattered, LeShawna came up and said, "The girls are back in town!" and high-fived me.

"I choose Justin." Trent said, looking quite proud in his choice. He was choosing all the beautiful people.

"Pick all the good-looking people, aren't you?" I called towards him. "Wow, _that'll _get you far."

Duncan and LeShawna immediately glared at me. I didn't mean it to come off as that. They were both quite nice-looking.

"It will in show business." Trent shot back. I growled and choose DJ.

He grinned and happily walked over to my team.

"Beth." Trent pointed towards her. She blushed as she strolled over between Lindsay and Justin.

I looked at the remaining girls: Izzy and Heather. I was hesitating. I didn't know who to choose. Heather was a bitch, and Izzy was very hard to control. Then, LeShawna whispered, "Remember: keep your enemies closer."

"No. You don't mean…" I choked up. She nodded. I sighed in defeat. Keeping Heather on team means she was against Lindsay and Beth. Heather knew everything about them due to their former "friendship". She knows all their weaknesses.

"Fine. We pick Heather." I announced. Looking absolutely shocked, she asked, "R-really?!"

I nodded, and she came over to our team. She was _still _in shock after ten minutes.

The only people left were Owen, Harold, and Izzy. So whatever guy Trent chose, I would get the one leftover. And Izzy would go to Trent's team.

Trent spent a few moments deciding between weird and weirder, when he said, "I choose Owen."

"**WOOHOO!**" Owen shouted, and high-fived Trent. Disgusted, Trent awkwardly wiped his hand on his shirt.

"WHAT?!" Harold exclaimed. "Guess who went to film camp, has an excellent background on lighting, had acting lessons…"

Aggravated, I said quickly, "I choose Harold. For no other reason but to shut him up."

Walking over, he said loudly (so Trent could hear), "Wise choice, Gwen. Wise choice."

I looked around and said, "…there weren't any guys left."

"Still."

"Um…I guess Izzy's on my team, then." Trent sighed. "Izzy?"

She didn't respond.

Lindsay whispered in Trent's ear, "She likes to be called Kalliedoscope!"

"Oh. Right." He nodded. He turned to Izzy and said, "E-Scope?"

She looked back. Quickly raising her hand, she yelled, "Here! Haha, that's right!" and skipped merrily towards Trent's team.

"Good, good." Chris nodded. He ran over towards my team and said, "Gwen! I christen your team…the Screaming Gaffers!"

The Screaming Gaffers...I didn't really like the name. "Gaffer" sounded like a nickname for an inhaler or something.

Chris then ran over towards Trent's team and said, "Trent, you and your team will now be known as the Killer Grips!"

You know, these names were far from ideal.

"Okay, guys, let's head to the mess hall." Chris said, and pointed in its direction.

I shrugged and walked up to Trent. "Heh…tough decision, huh?"

"Not for you, apparently. Why don't you walk with your new best friend?" Trent spat.

I narrowed my eyes. "Why don't you realize that we're just friends?! You're acting like a baby!"

I walked faster to catch up with Duncan. I didn't look back at Trent. He was getting too overprotective.

"Hi!" I exclaimed.

"Hi," he said back. "How does it feel to _not _be on Trent's team?"

"He's getting really angry at the fact we're separated." I explained. "Truthfully, I don't really care. In fact, I don't like Trent as much as I used to…"

I sighed. "He's getting overprotective and weird because I'm more popular than I used to be. He thinks I'll lose interest in him if I befriend other people, join other cliques." I exhaled deeply in utter frustration and looked away. "I'm losing interest in him because of that. Besides, I don't think we have much in common anymore."

"Yes, you do. You two are mysterious, artistic, smart, and shy." Duncan pointed out.

"I know. But we have different interests in art, literature, music and all that. The most we can talk about is about ourselves." I sighed. "We already did that in the Awake-a-thon. Trent is still amazing, and sweet. He wrote a song for me. He's great. But not as great as he used to be...and the stress of being on separate teams is inevitably going to get one of us. I don't know if we should break up or not."

"Well, do you still like him?" Duncan asked.

"A little."

"Does he still care for you?"

"Well, since we chose teams a while ago, he's being very cold and rude. So, I'm guessing he's just mad."

"Well…I don't know what to say…I think you have to make the decision yourself." He replied.

"I think we may have to break up." I sighed.

"That sucks…I'm sorry." Duncan sighed. "You guys looked nice together, too."

"I know. I'm disappointed…" I sighed. I really, really was. Trent meant so much to me, and throwing it away hurt. But, my decision was final. I couldn't just do it now, though. I was walking and chatting with Duncan for the last few minutes, and if I break up with Trent now, he'd think Duncan put me up to it. I had to think of a different time.

"Um…on the other hand…" I stopped and looked back at Trent. He was walking with his hands in his pockets looking at the ground. I turned back and said, "If he fucks anything else up, we'll talk then."

"Good." Duncan nodded. "The loser needs a second chance…you're probably the only girl he's ever going to get…"

I nodded and we entered the Mess Hall. After getting my one scrambled egg (while everybody else had two…Chef was still ticked about yesterday) and bagel, I sat down with Duncan. Trent sat with Lindsay. When I looked over to see what he was doing, he caught my eye and moved closer to Lindsay. He smirked, and I angrily (and accidentally) stabbed the table with my knife. Duncan looked over at the knife that was halfway _in _the table – and said simply, "Holy. Shit."

"Ha…I never thought I could possibly _do _that…" I snickered. I tried pulling it out of the table. No luck. I looked at Duncan and asked, "Um…can you help me get this out of the table?"

"Oh, sure." he tried getting it out of the table with one hand. No cigar. He put both hands on the knife handle and tried again. It didn't budge.

"Can you possibly help?!" he exclaimed.

I looked at my hands. They were minuscule, and weak. I didn't know if I could possibly pull it out. Until I realized _how _the knife got into the table the first place. I put both hands over Duncan's, and we both tried to get it out.

I looked over at Trent, who looked very surprised at all the events that were currently taking place.

After about thirty seconds of pulling the knife without prevail, our sweaty palms slid off the knife handle, and we both fell over on each other. Trent immediately stood up, totally in shock.

Me and Duncan were sort of sitting there, not knowing what to say or do. I felt my face burn and I saw him blush. We both simultaneously got up, extremely embarrassed.

We then sat down. My face was still burning and his was still flushed.

"Can we…talk about this…somewhere else?" he asked. He was hardly audible.

"Sure…ha…yeah…" I said back. I had no clue what he wanted to talk about, but he looked very, very awkward, probably something about what just happened…something he couldn't say in front of everybody else.

"How about…um…behind the Mess Hall? Nobody can see or hear us." He whispered. "Plus, nobody would think to look there. Is…that…good?"

"No problem. Let me go fix my makeup first…" I said, and speed-walked to the bathroom. I rushed in and looked in the mirror. I was still burning hot, redder than a cherry. I waited for the redness to fade away, but it remained. I was getting impatient, and I didn't want Duncan to think I needed an excuse to stand him up. I went into my makeup bag and began to powder my face. I looked slightly less red. It would be fine for now. I started to breathe, and relax. The redness was starting to fade. I was just going to talk with a guy-friend…alone. I was starting to blush again.

I sighed, and made my way towards the rear of the Mess Hall.

The reason why we had to talk was still vague, but I still proceeded to go.

When I got there, Duncan was leaning on a tree, tapping his foot impatiently. He noticed me, and said, "Hi." His face was pale again. I smiled and said, "Hey."

I walked up, and began talking. "Um, I have _no _clue what you needed to tell me that you couldn't say in the Me-"

At that moment, he kissed me.

What the hell?!

I was caught off guard, and I had two ideas in my mind. I could choose one or the other:

The first idea was to pry him off and yell, "Excuse me! But I am dating someone else by the name of Trent, thank you very much!" and march away.

I followed my second – to forget Whats-His-Name and kiss him back. I don't know _why_, but something about our lips crushing one another was entrancing. Although I felt like drowning out the fact we were in the middle of smoggy nowhere and we were both currently in turbulent relationships, I had to listen for footsteps. I didn't want anyone walking in, and gossiping this to Trent. Or anyone else, for that matter.

We stopped kissing, and our faces were, once again, tomato-red. I then apprehended the fact I just cheated on Trent. I felt like some sort of whore. This was another reason to break up with Trent. I didn't know how, though. To make the situation even more dramatic, I didn't want to dump Trent and leap right into Duncan's arms. The fact I liked him before would be evident. I had to keep planning. After a short moment of holding each other, I said, "…what about…Courtney…and Trent…"

"Um…" he looked down, thinking of the answer. "You said that…you're _really _close to dumping Trent, right? And…well, Courtney abandoned me last time for a million dollars…that's grounds for a break-up."

"No shit, Duncan. But after I break up with him, I don't want to automatically go out with you." I clarified. "It would be clear that I liked you before. Or, alternatively, that I'm desperate."

He nodded. "For now, it's between you and me."

I nodded in agreement. And, without thinking, I kissed him again.

It's weird. We've only…actually liked each other for about…um, four minutes, and I liked him more than Trent. We had _everything _in common, but we had some things that we weren't eye-to-eye on, which didn't make us "absolutely perfect for each other". If we were perfect with each other, we would be constantly making out like Geoff and Bridgette.

We slowly walked back to the Mess Hall. Our faces were red again.

**A/N: Hm…wow…sorry I had to delete the first story. Reasons unsaid! LOL! But I read the reviews, gracias.**


	8. Ch8: Just Friends

**A/N: Hello, kind sirs and madams. I want to let you know that I'm going to stray away from the plot, like the events. I'm twisting things up, events will happen sooner (catch my drift?) than it would in the actual show. So, please savor the story in which I distribute to you. –My British Twin…like in the Parent Trap. xD**

After most people finished their breakfast, I was just spreading the cream cheese on my bagel with the knife Duncan finally managed to get out of the table. There was a huge gap where it used to erect. Speaking of him, we were trying to keep our newly discovered feelings about each other to ourselves. Last thing I want to be called is a cheating skank.

We were sitting far apart from each other. He was sitting with DJ, I was sitting with LeShawna and Harold. Well, we excluded Harold…freaky nerd stalker.

LeShawna whispered to me, "So what happened between you and Duncan? Did you guys get into a fight?"

I quickly said, "No, of course not. It's just awkward…but don't worry. It'll pass."

"Okay, girl. I just don't trust him…" she sighed in aggravation. Harold immediately butt in on the conversation and said, "He _absolutely tormented _me! I wouldn't trust him ever! Not in a trillion years!"

I said optimistically, "Well, I do. We've grown a close bond. We're good friends."

"Hm. Just be careful, Gwen." LeShawna whispered. I looked down. It was quiet until Chris barged in, saying, "Greetings, children!"

We all looked up. Owen did, too. His stomach was wailing in pain, and, to help his digestive system, he was eating a bowl of prunes.

Oh, Lord, no. We were going to die of toxic Owen fumes.

"Now, as you know, movies are not made 100% by the actors." Chris explained. "There are cameramen, directors, producers, a special effects crew, boom operator…just many, many people behind the scenes to create a box-office hit."

Trent sighed in defeat. Serves him right for choosing the beautiful idiots. This game does not require beauty. It requires clever, fast thinking and the right people to get you through it.

"You will be carrying equipment up to help you for your second challenge." Chris continued. "Whatever you don't bring up will not be used. Try your best, let's get this show on the road."

He walked out of the mess hall as everybody threw away their trash. You've _got _to be kidding me. I didn't even eat my bagel yet. The eggs, I ate half of them and decided to give the rest to Owen. I wanted the bagel, nothing else now. Duncan didn't even touch his eggs. He ate the bagel. Nothing else.

I decided to eat my bagel on the way to wherever the equipment was. It was a good bagel.

I walked all by my lonesome, listening to "Bodies" by Smashing Pumpkins.

Soon, we came up to an area divided in half. Each had the same equipment as the other, with a big-ass trailer behind.

Please don't tell me we had to carry them.

"Okay! It seems you're all here!" Chris explained. "I want you all to carry the equipment way up _there!_"

He pointed up towards a massive cliff, identical to the one last year on the "island". I sat there, my mouth gaping open. No. I am not doing this.

"You just love messing with us, don't you?" I growled.

"Yes. Yes, I do." He shot back. "Now, move, move, MOVE!"

Immediately, we raced to grab all the equipment we could hold. I grabbed a light, while Trent grabbed two. Duncan grabbed one as well.

We all began darting up the mountain. Suddenly, I tripped on a rock.

"Oh, crap!" I exclaimed, about to fall. As I fell backwards, I felt Duncan's warm hands on my back as he caught me.

I turned back and smiled. I really liked that. It made the idiom (and usual song lyric) "I'll always be there to catch you when you fall" literal. I didn't want it to end.

He still kept smiling flirtatiously. Out of the blue, Trent caught sight of us and exclaimed, "What are you doing with him?!" in absolute envy.

I shook my head, returning to reality, and immediately exclaimed, "Um…we're on the same team?!"

He exhaled furiously and continued to walk up the hill. He then tripped on the light's cord. He fell frontward. The light bulb installed into his stage light shattered all over, and he rolled down the hill screaming, "Oh my God!!"

I didn't know how to react. I didn't want to save Trent as Duncan saved me. He would try to turn it around into a romantic moment. But I didn't want to be a stubborn little bitch.

I ultimately decided to put karma first, and stop Trent from rolling down the hill. I helped him up, smiled, and immediately ran up the hill alongside Duncan once again.

After about three more trips down the hill, I was drenched in sweat, and my limbs were weak. I could hardly walk. I felt ill. I began stumbling down the hill to the rest of my team. They were conversing about how to lug that massive trailer up the cliff. I walked up to Duncan and immediately said, "Oh my God…I feel sick…"

He immediately shouted, "What happened?!"

I inaudibly whispered, "I overworked myself…I think I'm going to faint…"

And that's exactly what happened next.

**A/N: 0_0 Ha, I left you on a cliffhanger. Well...um. Just telling you, I may change Ep.8's challenge into a challenge I thought of just recently. Not telling, but here's a hint: it has to do with a sassy, annoying, teenage vampire novel. ;-)**


	9. Ch9: Waking Up

**A/N: Hm. Writing the next chapter is really hard if you're never in that sort of position. Or, if you never made anything out of wood but a crappy little shank. xD Sorry for not updating as usual.**

I woke up in a mysterious location. I was in the girl's trailer. Thank goodness.

However, it was _moving_. I jumped up and held on to the leg of the bed. It was rolling off somewhere. I began to panic. I pulled back the curtains and looked outside. I was overlooking the set. Nobody was there. Plus, I was going _uphill_.

I immediately screamed, "Where the hell am I?!"

The trailer stopped moving, and I heard somebody (DJ?) go, "Wait, I think Gwen's awake…"

I sat back down as DJ, LeShawna and Duncan ran in.

"Thank God…" Duncan sighed in relief.

"What the hell happened?!" I asked, looking around. They looked around and began explaining the series of events.

"Okay, well, we had a challenge where we had to carry cameras, microphones, lights, and a bunch of equipment up a hill." LeShawna started.

"Oh, not to mention this goddamned trailer." Duncan hissed. "I think I pulled something two minutes ago…it hurts like hell."

Then, DJ went off-topic exclaiming, "Well, why didn't you say something?"

"I dunno." Duncan shrugged.

"You can stay here until it stops hurting, I guess." DJ sighed.

Duncan shrugged and sat down on the bunk bed.

"Well…let's see…" LeShawna continued. "After about three trips up and down the hill, you collapsed. So we all put you in the trailer before we carried it up."

It all came back to me. "Yeah…thanks."

"Well, um…come back out when you feel better…okay?" LeShawna asked.

"Yeah. Thank you." I smiled, and waved them goodbye. DJ and LeShawna left the trailer, and when it began to move again, I turned to Duncan.

"Did you _really _pull something?" I asked.

"Pffft, no." he said back.

I got up and sat next to him and asked, "Then why'd you say you pulled something?"

He half-smiled and said, "I wanted to be with you."

I put my head on his shoulder and said, "That's sweet."

"Thanks." He put his arm around my waist.

That's it. I had to break up with Trent now. I felt like jumping out of the trailer and doing it right now. I decided to wait until after the challenge. I wanted to savor the minutes I had with Duncan alone.

I then kissed him on the cheek for no apparent reason whatsoever. It caught us both by surprise, but we inevitably starting kissing each other on the lips.

Of course, this was a pretty bad time for our fellow teammates to accidentally loose their grip. The trailer suddenly began rolling back down the hill. I began to panic and held on closer to Duncan, my nails clawing and digging into his skin. He hissed due to the pain and exclaimed, "Can you _not_?!"

I immediately let go and whispered, "Sorry."

"It's fine…" he sighed in relief. The trailer was still rolling while DJ exclaimed, "Oh, crap!!! Don't worry guys, I've got it!"

I still held on to Duncan for dear, dear life. After a few minutes, the trailer came to a sudden stop. I let go of Duncan, and looked outside. We were at the base of the cliff. I sighed. I'd probably have to get out to help drag this trailer up. Then, Chris called, "Too late, guys! Time's up!"

Harold then said, "But our trailer is all the way at the bottom of the mountain again!"

"Sorry, guys. It seems the trailer and everything in it _must _stay here." Chris announced. Oh my God. I sprinted towards the door and exclaimed, "Even the people inside?!"

Chris then said, "Yes. Sorry, but you can't help your team. You have to stay in the trailer until the second part of the challenge is over."

Duncan rushed up and asked, "We can come out after, right?"

"Yeah." Chris nodded.

I shrugged and said, "Guys, I have faith in you! You can win this without us!"

They all shrugged, and went back up the mountain.

I closed the trailer door and sat back down on the bunk.

"Well…we have Heather, DJ, Harold, and LeShawna up there in the challenge…" I told Duncan. He absorbed the information I gave him and said this:

"Yeah, we're pretty much screwed."

If we were at the Gilded Chris Ceremonies tonight, one of us was definitely going home. Even though we wanted to compete, they dropped us.

I then decided to turn things around for a change. Instead of sitting here, thinking about the worst, why not look at the bright side? We didn't have to waste energy, the trailer is air-conditioned, and I spent at least another forty minutes with Duncan.

I walked up to him and said, "You know…we get to spend forty minutes alone in this trailer."

He half-smiled and kissed me again.

Our lips pressed against each other until our lips began to bleed. After such a sensation, we really didn't want to spend the forty minutes just kissing. As the flames began to cool, we stopped and simply sat on the floor and talked.

"So…birthday?" I asked.

"December 4th." He replied. "You?"

"September 12th." I said.

"So you're older than me." He realized. "Funny stuff."

I shoved him playfully and said, "That explains why I'm more mature than you!"

"Sure, Gwens, sure…favorite color?" he inquired.

"Midnight blue."

"Black."

That was quite a good color choice.

"Nice." I nodded. "Favorite store?"

"I dunno…Hot Topic?" he shrugged.

"Hot Topic is amazing," I grinned. "It's definitely the best store on earth."

He nodded and asked, "Favorite movie?"

"It's actually a close tie…" I looked down. "I like _Alien Chunks_, of course…but I also love the movie _Sweeney Todd_."

"Awesome." Thinking for a minute, he said back, "Besides Alien Chunks, I have to say _Halloween_."

Another wonderful choice by the one and only.

"Shweet." I leaned back on the side of the bunk, and asked, "Favorite song?"

"Bodies by Smashing Pumpkins."

My eyes widened with surprise. "That's my third favorite song. Ever. Next to 'Curmudgeon' and 'The Pretender'."

He patted my head and said, "Smart, smart Gwens."

We kept asking each other questions until we stopped talking and got into our own things. I felt like sketching outfits. I found a pencil, but no paper. I had no choice.

"Duncan, do you have your pocketknife with you?" I asked.

"Yeah." He reached into his pocket and before he opened it, he asked, "Why?"

"I feel like drawing something." I told him honestly. "But I can't find any paper."

He passed me the knife and said, "Good enough."

I unfolded it, and decided to carve into the bunk.

I couldn't carve anything without worrying my hand would slip and I'd cut myself. Despite this, I continued carving. I sort of went from my idea of designing some outfit to writing our initials in a heart, like love-struck Hollywood couples do.

I slowly began writing the initials towards the bottom of the bed's leg. It was quite small, but I began cutting our initials in. It was hard carving out the curves in the letter, but after I wrote a perfect "D", the "G" was no trouble. I then cut in the heart and decided to draw an arrow going through.

It turned out near-perfect.

I grinned at its perfection, and returned Duncan's knife.

I looked over at Duncan. He was writing something on his arms with the pen I found. They looked like arrows. Directions.

I came up behind him, poked his shoulder to get his attention, and gave his knife back.

"What did you carve?" he asked.

"Nothing of your interest." I said quickly. "What did you write on your arm?"

He quickly pulled his sleeve over the writing and said back, "Nothing of your interest."

I shrugged and sat on the bunk. After two minutes, the door swung open as LeShawna yelled, "I can't believe it!"

Turns out, it was an acting challenge. The Grips had to choose someone to play an old lady, and we had to choose someone to play a criminal. And Duncan was out. Figures.

So, we chose Heather and they chose Izzy (according to her, she's the reincarnation of her Granny Mavis).

Forty minutes and a few minor mishaps later, the stage was set. Apparently, someone screwed with the lines. Izzy got Heather's, and vice versa. Heather is actually…not the best actress. Some lines were missed, and DJ was shining the light in her eyes, so she occasionally put her hand over her eyes to block out some of the light. To everyone's surprise, she actually won, due to the fact Beth fell off of the ladder she was standing on. The spotlight she was working soon toppled over, and a huge mark was left to prove it.

I finally left the trailer, and the small carving I made as well.

**A/N: This is all I have to say at the time being: I would've KILLED to see Beth fall off of a ladder in the actual program. XD**


	10. Ch10: An Invitation

**A/N: This is a pretty long chapter. But it's also one of my favorites. ******

Well, I spotted Trent leaning on a maple tree by the outskirts of the forest that served as the eastern wall of the set. I was about to finally break up with him when I felt nervous. Instead, I sat outside of the guy's trailer until I decided to actually do this.

All the while, Duncan was walking up to the trailer.

Once he saw me, he asked, "Um, do you want to come inside?"

I looked up and said, "Sure."

Once inside, I sat down on his bunk (I could tell by the skull carving on one of the supports) as he sat next to me. I looked at him and said, "I really don't know how to break up with him. I need a REALLY good excuse."

"Clearly the stress of not being on the same team is stressful." He said. "If you deal with it anymore, it'll take a toll on your relationship and mental health."

I looked at him. Was he a psychologist or something?

"Where did you get that?" I asked.

"Gwen, truthfully, I have _no _idea where I come up with this bullshit." He came out.

I smiled. Typical, typical.

I laughed and as I did so, my hand slowly slid underneath his pillow. I felt some paper. I pulled it out to find a picture of Courtney. During a 2008 School President election. I looked at him and asked, "You have a picture of Courtney under your pillow. Really."

He shrugged and asked, "Did you happen to see the back?"

I turned it to the back to see a list of insults written on the back of her. And about she abandoned people for a simple buck, how she was a bitch, etc.

"Wow. Just…wow." I smirked.

"I used to think she was amazing." He grinned. "She was absolutely everything."

I scooted closer to him. The last thing I wanted him to do was to think he loved Courtney and abandon me. I highly doubted it, but anything could happen. He was a piñata full of surprises.

"Really?" I asked.

"I think I just loved the fact she followed me on everything." He smiled. "You know what I mean? We robbed the mess hall together, went for the million together…and then that bitch abandoned me for the money."

He laid down on his back. I put my head on his chest and said, "She's not worth it."

I then paused and quietly asked, "What do you think of me?"

He grinned and simply went, "Hm."

"What does that mean?" I raised an eyebrow in curiosity. I didn't know if that was a good "hm" or a bad "hm".

"Well…" he thought for a minute. "You're smart, beautiful, amazingly talented...truthfully, I could go on for hours."

I held him tighter.

"You're daring, charming, clever…and I could go on for hours, too." I said.

Suddenly, I heard the doorknob rattle.

"Oh, shit!" I shrieked. Duncan immediately ran up to the door, locked it, and exclaimed, "Who is it?"

"Harold," the person on the other side of the door answered.

"Harold, do you have a ballpoint pen?" Duncan awkwardly asked. I looked at him with a bewildered expression on my face. He turned and shrugged. He pleaned in towards me and whispered, "Babe, play along."

I nodded, jumped up, and opened the door.

"Hi," I said. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for a ballpoint pen."

He was skeptical. Crap.

"Uh…sorry, I don't have one?" he said back.

"Oh, that sucks." I fake-sighed. I turned back and said, "See you two."

I walked out of the trailer towards Trent. He walked up to me and said, "I know you weren't there today, but Heather's performance spoke to me today."

I looked up at him and went, "M-hm?"

"I've loved…I've lost…but the one thing I want most is my darling goat, Gwen."

What the fuck?

"Um…Trent…I have to talk to you about something." I looked down at the ground, and back up again. "I don't think we should be together anymore. The stress of being on different teams has gotten to me. We can't see each other. I'm sorry."

He began tearing up. "I get it…I'm sorry it didn't work out."

"It's not you…or even me. It's this damned show. But for now, I'd rather be single."

"Okay. It's fine. I'll see you around."

I rushed away, but realized that the cold chain that usually hung on my neck wasn't there anymore.

My necklace was gone. Again. I knew I went in the guys' trailer with it, but its location perplexed me. I walked up to the trailer and pounded on the door. Nobody answered. I rushed over to the side and peeked through the window. There was nobody in there. I decided to just wait in my trailer.

I walked over the girls' trailer. I got on my top bunk, and dropped my head on the pillow. I felt something crumble underneath.

I picked up the pillow. Nothing was there. I reached inside the pillowcase to find an envelope. I tilted my head, wondering at what it was. I opened it, and read what was inside:

"Gwens.

Hi. Guess who.

Okay, there's a dirt path behind the Mess Hall. There will be multiple intersections: go left, right, right, left, and you will come up to an 8x6' patch of green grass surrounded by white flowers.

How I find this shit, I really don't know. Come by at around ten.

Love you.

Duncan.

Oh, and get a better chain on your necklace."

I giggled and checked the time. It was five. We were eating in ten minutes. Not until I pulled my necklace out of the envelope. I held it to my chest and sighed dreamily. Like a love-struck idiot.

I put the envelope and necklace in my suitcase and sprinted to the Mess Hall. I rushed up to Duncan who just got in line.

"Hi," I greeted him.

"Hi," he replied. "You left your necklace at the trailer…so I returned it. Did you get it?"

"Mm-hm." I nodded. "Thanks. The note was nice too."

"Oh, it was nothing." He looked up at Chef, who reluctantly dropped a very rare flank steak on his tray and a handful of fries.

"Can you cook this more? Like, medium-well?" Duncan crossed his arms and handed the tray back.

Chef pushed it towards him and said, "Just take the goddamned steak."

Duncan narrowed his eyes and took the steak.

I went up and said, "Don't worry, I like it rare."

He gave me the steak and fries. I sat next to Duncan and grinned. He just pointed to Trent.

Trent's face was buried in his hands. I had a look of guilt on my face, but instead, I began eating my steak. Duncan looked at me and said, "Do you want to trade your fries for my steak?"

I wasn't really planning on eating them. And, surprisingly, the steak was pretty good.

"Sure, sounds good." I said. He stabbed his steak with his fork and dropped it on my plate. I brushed my fries on his plate.

"So…" I said. I looked around to see if anyone was listening in. Nobody was. I whispered, "…does that place look as beautiful as it sounds?"

"It's unique…" he started. He then said quickly, "…in a good way!"

"Cool." I nodded. I looked over at Trent. "I feel bad. He looks so disheartened."

"Don't feel bad, Gwens. He'll be over it soon." Duncan grinned.

I did feel better. I had Duncan now. I still felt a little guilty, but not as.

After finishing my two steaks and after he finished his huge plate of fries, we walked back to the trailer. It was five forty-five. The Killer Grips' ceremony started at six. The team began chatting, occasionally glancing over at Trent, Izzy, or Beth.

The outcome of the elimination was unclear. So, I listened to my iPod and occasionally chatted with LeShawna or Duncan until eight.

At that point, I just laid in bed waiting for ten.


	11. Ch11: Meeting Place

**a/n: fave chapter. RIGHT HERE. XD**

I got up, feeling very ecstatic. I turned towards the small window next to my bunk. I opened it, and looked down. Underneath were a few shrubs. If I fell, I guess it wouldn't be _that _painful. To add, it was freezing.

I started escaping feet-first. I slid out easily, and once I was holding onto the ledge of the window. I let go, and landed between the shrub and the wall. I shimmied against the wall until I could freely run. I began dashing towards the mess hall. I looked around for the path. I couldn't find it. As I was searching, frequently whispering "Where the hell is this path?!"

I did that until I felt someone's lips crushing against mine. At first, I was caught completely off-guard. The trees were blocking the moonlight, so it was extremely dark. I absolutely knew Duncan was kissing me, so I kissed back.

He then put his arm around me and asked, "It's really that dark to you, isn't it?"

I looked up, quite confused. "What, you can see?"

He laughed, like he was flattered. "I've gotten used to the darkness, and I sort of have night-vision. You can say I built a tolerance."

I rolled my eyes. "No, hon, that's technically impossible."

"Is it, Gwen? Is it?" he asked.

"Yes, Duncan, it is." I patted his back.

We made it to the grassy field. The moonlight was shining in above us, so I could see a little. It _was _beautiful. The grass was soft and greener than a golf course. The flowers were whiter than the clouds. There was a comforter rolled up near the corner.

"I thought it was cold, so I just brought a comforter." He shrugged.

"Good." I grinned.

We leaned against an old log that sort of acted as a chair. I wrapped myself in the comforter. That's when he said, "So, you don't think I have night-vision, Gwens?"

"No. It's impossible unless you're one of the X-Men." I said skeptically.

He grabbed my wrist and snapped a band. "Orange. That means…hm…kiss, I think…right…yeah, yeah, right."

I looked at him and shrieked, "You know what they are?!"

He put his arm around me and said, "Gwen. They were around since the 80's. Everyone knows what they mean."

I shrugged and leaned in to kiss him. Until something came up.

"H-hold on…sorry…do you know who got voted out?" I asked quickly. My arms were around his neck and his were around my waist.

"Oh, yeah." He looked up thinking. "Trent.

I began to tremble. "Why?"

"He voted himself off."

The color drained out of me. "Because of me, isn't it?"

"Probably. Whatever the reason, don't feel so bad."

"I can't help it. He gave up on a million dollars for me. I feel horrible."

He held me tighter. I felt his hot breath on my freezing neck. It was just that close. "Don't. You didn't want it to happen. It was his dumbass idea, not yours. Try to let it roll off your shoulders."

I sighed. If I knew what Trent was planning to do this, I would have tried to stop it from the start. Duncan was right.

"Thank you," I nodded. "I feel better…I think."

We continued to kiss when he said, "See? I told you it was orange, and it was."

I raised an eyebrow and said, "Bullshit."

He handed me his lighter and said, "Check."

I got up and he held out the lighter he always carried. I snatched it, got up, lit the lighter, and held the bracelet up to the light. It was orange. My mouth was gaping open.

"No. Fucking. Way." I gasped.

"Believe me now, Gwens?" he smiled.

I grinned and sat down. We continued kissing for about two more minutes. We only stopped to take huge breaths or to laugh.

It was official. I had a secret boyfriend. The thrill of it was exhilarating. Well, it wasn't exactly a thrill; it was just the feeling of being part of something that if you had one witness to it, you're screwed. It's something you'd usually see in some daytime television series, with shitloads of romance and drama. Only it was real.

After that, I leaned my head against the log, and blurted out "I love you" before falling asleep.

--------------------

I woke up to a high-pitched, irritating beep. It was Duncan's watch.

"Okay, good, you're awake…" he said. "It's an hour before call-time. Try getting back into your bunk first, and then just act like you've been sleeping there all night. Mm-kay?"

I nodded in agreement. Sounded like a sure-fire plan. We started walking towards the trailers. The sun wasn't even rising yet. It was five in the morning.

When we reached the Mess Hall, we kissed goodbye and proceeded back into the trailers. I hopped up towards the window that I left through, and after a few jumps, I finally got a grip on it. I pulled myself up, and snaked my way into bed. I wanted to just…fall asleep. I was so at ease. But images of him fluttered around in my head like butterflies. It was impossible to fall asleep when thoughts of Duncan kept me stimulated. The orange broken bracelet was weaved between a few others. I took it and put it in my suitcase. I zipped it up and started redoing my makeup and getting dressed. I was pretty much prepared, with forty-five minutes to spare.

I got back on my bunk, and started listening to "All Apologies". I couldn't wait until night fell again. I was also considering times to introduce ourselves as a couple. Maybe in two weeks?

Hmm, that might work.

I sat up. I was impatient to see him again. But I was stuck in the trailers, absolutely bored. I needed something to stimulate my senses.

I got up and went to my suitcase. I got out my journal, a pen, and the broken bracelet. I put it on the bed, and started a contour line drawing.

The sun was beginning to rise. The sky was citrus orange, and there was enough light to see.

Twenty minutes later, I was signing the drawing. It looked great. I put it in my pillowcase for now. Two minutes later, Izzy woke up, exclaiming, "Well, another day! Wake up, people!!"

Beth, Lindsay, Heather and LeShawna did – in fact – wake up, annoyed.

"Can't you disturb someone _else's _beauty sleep, Psycho Hose Beast?!" she growled.

"No! Now come on!! We have a challenge to win! Woo!" She threw her arms up in the air. She was _pumped_.

"You mean _I _have a challenge to win. We're on separate teams, Psycho Hose Beast." Heather stood up and said sharply, "Your performance in this game is pushed by your determination to win. I'm here to get new hair, fame, fortune!...everything I need in order to be set for life! You are just here for the absolute fun of it, like the money doesn't even matter to you!"

Even after so much time spent with the Queen Bee, I wasn't used to her rants and raves about how everybody is imperfect. But her.

The whole "Lindsay got my head shaved" fiasco ended most of the insults:

"I have better hair than you."

"At least I'm beautiful and popular."

Insults and comebacks such as the ones above ended immediately after. However, Heather always "knew" nobody could take away her "intelligence, great strategy, and near-perfection", and used that against the ones she's always found…different.

Izzy simply shrugged and exclaimed, "Of course! It _is _fun! I mean, competing in life or death situations…meeting new people, and all on _national television_! It's AWESOME!"

That left Heather almost speechless. It was just too awkward to even speak of.

Everyone changed into our day clothes, while I was just simply sitting on top of my bunk. I didn't really speak that morning. Not even to LeShawna. I just really wanted to talk to Duncan. Yes, he was the _only _person I wanted to talk to.

We heard the bullhorn, and Chris announced, "Morning, castmates! Hopefully you're all ready for breakfast! Report to the Mess Hall immediately."

As we all got up and began walking to the Mess Hall, I was frantically searching for Duncan. I just saw him about an hour ago, but already I still needed to speak with him.

Emphasis on "needed".

**a/n: Ha, um, just to alert you all, my internet, my schedule, and my patience haven't been meshing well (if that even makes sense) as it did in the summer. In the summer, you have 24/7 FREEDOM. School, I fall asleep early and I need my seven hours (yup, I run on seven, not EIGHT!) of rest. I have a lot of advanced classes that I need to pay more attention in, because one low grade and you're out of the class. I wish there was Advanced English so I could focus more on my writing, but no.**

**I get Advanced Art, Science and Math. I love art to death, but science isn't my best subject. Neither is math, so I'm working harder than usual. Time put into this story is slightly limited!**

**And, my Twilight/Dracula/Ann Rice thing is being delayed…I have a perfect role for Courtney, and I wanted to bring Courtney back earlier in time, but I wanted to keep some key events that, with Courtney, may not be as dramatic or made as much of an impact. I'm thinking the prehistoric one, because it had countless Anti-DxC moments that, I think would be hard writing from Gwen's perspective. I think if she got involved…I dunno, she'd be OOC. If she stayed out, she'd not be supportive of her boyfriend, and that isn't really like her.**

**Sorry for the long A/N, I just felt it had to be said ASAP!**

**So, R+R…arigato!**


	12. Ch12: Challenge from Hell

**A/N: Once again, SO sorry for the long authors note in Ch.11. ******** Just had to be said at the time.**

**And happy belated b-day to Gwen xD (AND people who share her birthday! YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE!)!!!**

**-Your French Puppet Pal, tdi+nirvana=happy :]**

Once outside, I looked over to the guy's cabin. Harold came out with dark bags under his eyes, and his Napoleon Dynamite look. Second was Justin, who looked like a Fabio-wannabe (like always) with his "glowing skin and oh-so-perfect hair". Third was Duncan. I immediately speed-walked up and said, "Hi."

"Hi," he responded. "How was getting back to the trailer?"

"It worked out pretty well," I smiled. "Nobody noticed I was gone. It worked out perfectly."

"Thank God I can say the same for myself," he nodded. "DJ is the lightest sleeper…ever…it's weird, but I swear he wasn't in the trailer when I snuck in."

That seemed strange. DJ wasn't one to act out, or at least go outside in the dark. In fact, DJ didn't come out of the trailer. That was really, really peculiar. After some thinking, I froze at one possibility I thought of.

He could've been spying on Duncan and me…although it seems extremely unlike him. He wasn't the one to snoop or get into anyone's business. The possibility – although threatening to the secrecy of the whole relationship – was quickly scratched out.

Walking to the Mess Hall, I found myself in some sort of reverie (well, to be more accurate, I was too busy thinking to pay attention to reality), and tripped on a rock that was sticking out of the ground. My face was two feet from the ground until Duncan grabbed my wrists and pulled me back up on my feet.

"Thank you," I sighed in relief, and grinned.

"You're welcome," he nodded. "Usually you move pretty deftly. The fact you fell sort of caught me off guard…"

"I move deftly?" I looked at him in surprise. I never thought I was deft. Well, truthfully, I never thought about my dexterity. "Thank you."

"Yeah, you do." He said. "Unfortunately, you sort of lost that title when you tripped back there."

I let out a small laugh. Not like a, "Ha ha ha" or a "Ha!" It was sort of a "Heh."

When we got in the Mess Hall, to our surprise, DJ was there eating breakfast already. This didn't seem right. Chef only served when we _all _got at the hall. Odd.

"DJ?" I asked. He turned around with a mouth full of morning food. He swallowed it, waved, and answered, "Hey, Gwen! How are you?"

"I'm good, thanks." I smiled. "Why are you here…eating so early?"

He got up and said, "Well, the early bird catches the worm. And, by worm, I mean…EGG McMUFFIN!!"

Yup. Chef Hatchet cooked up Egg McMuffins. Ugh. Ever since I was six, I hated them with all my heart.

It was Columbus Day weekend, and my mom took me and my brother to the local theater to see a play. On the way there, she bought us McDonald's breakfast food. I got an Egg McMuffin and a hash brown. I practically swallowed them whole, and my stomach was completely full. We then got in the theater, and took our seats. Ironically, the popular girls of my class were sitting next to me. Before the play, and during the intermission, we found ourselves chatting. We had a lot of things in common, and during the time, we built a good rapport. I was sort of considered a part of the clique. That's until I felt ill, and told my mom that we were going to see the Egg McMuffin and hash brown again. I ran into the parking lot, and began throwing up in a nearby bush. The color was drained out of my face. The news of it got to the popular girls, who quickly spread it throughout the class.

I lost the popularity I thought I achieved, and lost my appetite for breakfast at McDonald's. It was a lose-lose situation. And, the play wasn't finished. So it's sort of a lose-lose-lose situation.

I sighed, and grabbed my tray reluctantly. When I got up to Chef, I asked politely, "Excuse me, but do you have any alternative foods?"

He shook his head and said, "Take the Egg McMuffin."

"Um…" I looked at the meals. The smell itself was revolting. "I'll pass, thank you."

Duncan stared at me in shock as I left with absolutely nothing

"And you passed on the food _why_?" he raised an eyebrow.

"They make me sick," I sighed. "I was ill after eating one when I was about six, and I haven't touched one ever since."

"Oh," he sighed. "You can have the French toast it came with, if you want."

I grinned. "Are you sure?"

He shrugged and said, "Don't worry about it, it's fine."

I grinned and took the offer. "Thank you. Again."

"It's no trouble at all." He brushed it off his shoulders, and went to the coffee maker. I guess coffee would be a good idea, it would help pep me up for today's challenge.

I smiled and playfully said, "Are you going to steal another mug?"

He laughed and said, "No…but do you want coffee or something…?"

I nodded. "Uh, sure."

He poured us both a mug, and we proceeded to sit down.

He took one bite into his Egg McMuffin before exclaiming, "Holy shit, this Egg McMuffin is fantastic!"

Chef cooking fantastic food was impossible. "How?! Chef never cooks good food!"

"Thank you for your consideration!" Chef yelled over. He then mumbled, "Ungrateful little scum…"

DJ nervously added, "Yeah, heh, not in a million years! Haha…"

Once we sat down with DJ and LeShawna, Chris came in and exclaimed, "ALOHA, castmates! Today…your challenge is a beach-party!"

A beach party theme? Oh my God. This is the _last _movie genre I wanted to do. Although I have never saw a _real _beach movie (except for Jaws), I was still reluctant to do the challenge. Beach means sun, lifeguards, and irritating seagulls. I loved the beach as a child, but now, it was one of the most annoying places on earth. How can somebody find relaxation in a place filled with pestering seagulls picking at your food, sand up your bathing suit, and the sun beating down on you, scorching your skin until you're crispier than toast? It has always eluded me.

"Have you ever seen one of those 1950's surfer movies?" Chris asked. "Where the kids have some 'neat-o fun' before the big bonfire Twist-a-thon? And the bully kicks sand into the nerdy guy's face?"

My expression was a cross between horror and confusion. Duncan had sort of a, "What the hell?" look on his face. DJ simply shrugged and LeShawna looked puzzled.

"No, grandpa." Duncan said sharply. "We haven't."

"Well, get ready to recreate one, junior!" Chris exclaimed. "Come to the warehouse as soon as you're finished eating! That's where you'll have your first challenge!"

I sighed. In order to get a million dollars, I had to go through this. But, hell, it was only a day. How bad could it be?

Just had to ask.

Beforehand, we changed into our bathing suits (being that we were going on the beach and all) and walked towards a warehouse. What was inside wasn't very clear yet, until Chris arrived. He was wearing a Eskimo-wear, and for the life of me, I didn't know why. He opened the door and led us inside. The temperature was well under zero degrees Fahrenheit, and I was freezing my fucking head off in there. Icicles surrounded us, and strangely, the small pool of water in front of us was not frozen. Good Lord, it must have been heated. I immediately ran up and stuck my hand in the water to grab the temperature. It was thirty-four degrees, only a little over the freezing point.

Inside the pool was a surfing simulation thing. This was not going to go well.

Chef was in a green winter outfit, controlling a machine that probably worked the surfing simulator.

As we stood near the wall, our teeth were chattering as Chris looked quite cozy in his coat and freshly-brewed mocha. Damn him.

"Your first challenge…" he sipped his drink. "…is a surfing contest! It's easy! Just stay on longer than anyone else, and your team wins it!"

"Just one question…" Duncan asked. He was barely intelligible, due to his teeth chattering so quickly. "Why the hell is the room so cold?!"

Chris looked at him and simply said, "Because if it was any warmer, the temperature would melt Chef's tender heart."

Chef then waved happily like a little schoolgirl. It was creepy seeing him smile like that, even if it was sarcastic. Just seeing a smile on the old man's face scared the living daylights out of you.

"So…who's first?" Chris asked.

Harold triumphantly walked ahead of us, his chest puffed out. "_I'll _go ahead!" he announced. He melodramatically walked up the steps to the surfboard and proclaimed, "This is for _you_, LeShawna!"

Almost everybody rolled their eyes. Duncan even whispered to me, "How desperate."

LeShawna was extremely embarrassed and slowly took about two steps back.

Chef started up the machine, when Chris said, "And you'll have some company in there!"

Harold, now slightly mortified, exclaimed, "What do you mean by that?!"

"I mean we threw some goblin sharks in there," Chris answered. "The Baltimore Aquarium was more than happy to lend them to us."

"HOLY CRAP!!" Harold screeched. He was avoiding the sharks that were hopping at him, trying to take his leg off.

"I thought sharks only attacked humans on rare occasions…!" Harold yelled. "Why are they so violent?!"

"Well, as you know, Harold," Chris began to explain, as Harold was guarding his life from the angry sharks. "Seals are a main part of a shark's diet. That's why our interns created a complex illusion. From underwater, your surfboard looks like the body of a seal. Shadows from a few items surrounding us create the flippers and tail."

"And these guys haven't eaten in the last 24 hours," Chef added with a malevolent tone. "So they are _dying _to get a bite out of you, dude!"

He added some malicious laughter. Harold was terrified to the point he might just crap his pants.

Then, in absolute horror, Harold jumped onto a beam overhead, and looked around for any distraction. While doing so, the sharks were jumping up, trying to gnaw his ass off. Suddenly, Harold got a glimpse of Owen eating bacon and tofu bacon.

Harold immediately pointed to Owen's plate of food and exclaimed, "LOOK! Bacon and fake-on!"

Duncan immediately turned to Owen and exclaimed, "Why the hell did you save breakfast?!"

"I dunno," Owen shrugged. "Maybe because it's nutritious, leftover, and _magically delicious!_"

Duncan shrugged, as if, "It's Owen. Nobody ever knows what the _fuck _he's going to do."

The sharks did not see the food, so Harold grabbed a key out of his pocket, and shook it to capture the shark's attention. The sharks saw the object, and immediately tried to bite it out of his hands. After a few attempts, Harold threw it towards Owen.

Oh no.

The goblin sharks then hopped out of the water and in front of the crowd. Everybody screamed as the sharks flopped their way over to the key…which was at Owen's feet. I screamed and wrapped my hands around Duncan's neck for some sort of protection, sort of like a safe feeling. He then held me closer to him as we both quickly walked away.

I would've held on forever until I realized the relationship was secretive. We realized our mistake, and immediately let go. We captured the attention of Heather, who is the last person I'd like to capture the attention of. Rumors will be flying around by sundown. I just knew it.

After a few other failures from other teams, I was up. The sharks were put in a separate tank; since Chris's agent called and deemed the challenge deadly if they were involved. He also said the treatment the animals were receiving here was inhumane. The goblin sharks were to be immediately fed and well-rested before being sent back to Maryland later this evening.

I got on the surfboard, sighed in relief and said, "Well, no sharks, no problem."

I then noticed a huge machine gun positioned nearby. It was filled with seagulls. I put one hand on my hip, pointed to the gun and hollered, "And _this _is less humane than starving the goblin sharks?! What the hell!?"

"Oh, this is taxidermy." Chris explained. He turned to the nearby camera and said, "Note these seagulls have died of natural causes. Poaching and other forms of hunting are morally wrong. Animals are beautiful creatures and deserve to live in the wild where they belong. Show your support by donating today to 555-921-730. Thank you for your consideration."

He then turned back to me and said, "But these seagulls were once alive! So…you can _say_ it's like a real gull, only it's dead…but it's not rotting. Get it?"

"I guess?..." I yelled back. That's when he began to shoot. I avoided the first seven, until one hit my smack-dab in the face. I began to freak out.

"OH MY GOD!! SKY RAT!! GET IT OFF! GET! IT…!" I screamed, until loosing my balance and falling into the water. It was cold water, but it was extremely warm compared to the room temperature. But, I lost. I got hit by a revolting little seagull and fell. I found myself burning with anger.

I angrily climbed out, and stood by Duncan.

"That. Was. Horrible." I growled.

"Well, you tried…" Duncan sighed. "At least you weren't torn to shreds by sharks."

"I guess so."

He nodded and we began to watch Izzy climb up on the surfboard. She then exclaimed, "Be aware! I am a skillful Chinese egret!"

I looked at her and said, "Chinese egrets aren't very skillful to begin with."

She glared at me and said, "Have you ever _seen _a Chinese egret in the first place?"

I haven't. But after paying attention in class and knowing the behavior of the animal, I knew it definitely wasn't so nimble. Especially due to the fact it was a highly endangered species.

"No." I yelled back.

She held her hand up and exclaimed, "Well then, _I _don't think you can talk right now."

I rolled my eyes and simply watched her dodge the taxidermy birds. She was laughing the whole time. It was amazing. She _was _a skillful Chinese egret.

That's until she slipped on the surfboard. Out of all the things she was avoiding so gracefully, a little water was her downfall? It was a little embarrassing to even watch.

She came out laughing as well, and shook her hair dry like she was a dog.

Water splashed _everywhere_, and even though the warm water was slightly refreshing, it was quite disgusting.

"Jesus, haven't you ever heard of a _towel_?!" Duncan exclaimed.

Izzy shrugged and said, "Sure I have! But they're not as fun as shaking the water out of your head! Besides, it's less stuff to put in the wash!"

Duncan shrugged. He then whispered to me, "It's impossible to get to this girl, isn't it?"

"I've figured that out a while ago, Duncan." I whispered back.

He sighed and said, "Everyone has."

Duncan then got up on the surfboard, totally indifferent about the whole situation.

Chris poked his head from behind the gun and said, "Hey, try not to get your piercings wet, dude."

Duncan simply rolled his eyes and was totally prepared for the birds flying at him.

He dodged every bird shot at him. I was standing with the rest of the group in awe.

Chris turned to Will (a petite intern with red hair) and shrugged. Will pointed to a chair and some lights, and they both threw the equipment.

"Holy fuck, holy fuck…!" I whispered under my breath.

He avoided those, too.

Then, holding her head in pain, Lindsay walked up to Chris and whined, "Aw…I have a headache…Craig, can you get me some Tylenol…?"

Instead of getting Lindsay some Tylenol, he threw her at Duncan too. He ducked as Lindsay slammed against the beach-scene behind her.

Oh my God, she could've been killed (or at least severely injured). Oh…oh my God, I can't imagine the results is she hit Duncan. They _both _could've died.

"Duncan, it seems you are our winner!" Chris announced.

"Nice," Duncan grinned and climbed out of the pool. I smiled at him, and we high-fived before hugging. It was a cute moment in my opinion. Sort of a best-friend thing.

We then proceeded to go back to our trailers to change into our bathing suits before going to part two of the challenge.

**A/N: This was a delayed chapter…highly delayed. Sorry…******** (*compensates with readers by giving out snowcones*)**


	13. Ch13: The Beach

**A/N: Just a before-hand note, I suck with cars. So don't go saying that I dismantled it wrong. X]**

I was so proud of my boyfriend.

Extremely, extremely proud. I'm not proud like a mother gets when her kid wins the spelling bee. I'm teammate-proud.

When I emerged from the trailer park, looking just as I had before going to Antarctica, I walked over to the sidewalk where "we where going to an actual beach for part two of our challenge".

Sure, Chris. Sure.

Soon, everybody was by the sidewalk. Duncan came up to me. I saw he probably wanted to put his arm around me or something boyfriend-girlfriend like. Alas, he couldn't. It would've been sweet, though. Quite sweet.

Chris then walked up in his Jeff-Probst shirt and jeans and said to the cameras, "Welcome back to the show! And, against all suggestions _not _to, the castmates have changed _out _of their bathing suits."

"I'd rather not freeze my ass off in another warehouse, thank you very much." Heather sneered.

"Who said anything about a warehouse?" Chris questioned Heather. Then, as if on cue, the same bus that brought us _to _this horrid set arrived again, spewing pollution all over the street.

We stood in shock as the doors opened, and Chef was driving. He was dressed in a hibiscus-print shirt with Bermuda shorts and a visor cap.

We were going to an actual beach. Holy shit.

As we boarded into the bus, I sat next to Duncan once again. Heather sat in front of us. I was skeptical. She first saw me holding onto Duncan for dear life in the warehouse, and whatever else she witnessed, I didn't know. She could've seen me leaving the trailer and heading towards the forest. If she was that sketchy, maybe she could've seen us kissing behind the Mess Hall. I had to be on my toes. I had to see where she was and what she was doing (probably styling her hair or thinking up stuff to buy with the million she is planning on winning). Or, if she gets one piece of evidence of me and Duncan having a romantic relationship, I would watch helplessly as the news flew like angry bees. And she would be witnessing her creation, with a cocky smile while laughing, "What now, bitch."

It's not that I'm embarrassed or afraid to be with Duncan. He was everything and more. But getting together with someone _right _after a breakup made me seem like a desperate slut. I want to be anything but that. Plus, finding myself with Duncan after dating everyone's dream guy – your rarely-discovered "Edward Cullen" and my rarely found Oliver Hastings – was probably a step down in the public's opinion.

Well, whatever. Fuck the public's opinion. Duncan _is _my Oliver Hastings (even though Trent matches the description perfectly: an emerald-eyed bassist with long black hair that usually hung in his face, with a blue-haired misfit by his side). Trent's personality couldn't come close to Duncan's. It was fun, romantic, and could keep you entertained for hours. Right now, Duncan is on my freaking Food Pyramid (does that make sense?). I need him to function properly and live to be – I dunno – ninety-eight.

"So," I said. Meanwhile, I was glaring at Heather, while trying to keep the conversation friendly. "How's it going?"

"Fine," Duncan replied. "I'm just still in shock to actually win that challenge."

"You were amazing out there," I exclaimed. "Nobody else on our team could probably pull that off."

"I've never really liked surfing, actually." He admitted. "It's always seemed like such of an eighties-era Malibu thing. With blonde douche-nozzles riding the waves as if no big deal, as if it was the pettiest, easiest sport to have ever come into existence. And you can't forget the tan whores on the beach watching their boyfriends just glide around on the waves. It seems too 'The OC' for me. It sort of pains me to realize I'm somewhat good at it."

"I've never been a beach girl anyway," I agreed, "but when you're fighting for a million dollars, I'd probably juggle on that fucking thing."

He laughed, and said, "True that, Gwen. True that."

We both then looked forward to Izzy, who was performing "The Dance of the Rattlesnake" in the aisle.

"That girl is outright ridiculous." I was watching in total confusion.

"I always ask myself why she isn't in an insane asylum." He sighed. "She's a future serial killer, I'm telling you…"

He then looked around, thinking, and said, "Unless she already is one…"

I shuddered.

"Oh, Jesus." I laughed. "You're probably right."

I looked up at Heather, who was still listening in on conversation. She was sitting quietly, trying to look as innocent as possible. That's when I got my artistry pen out (those marker-like ones that write in Indian ink) and wrote on my hand, "Heather's listening in. Keep it simple."

I tapped Duncan on the shoulder and innocently showed him the back of my hand.

He looked at it, nodded, took the pen, and wrote on his hand, "You just realized that?"

"I knew she was since the bus started."

"Good. Love you."

On the outside, I looked calm and collected. But on the inside, I was squealing of joy. He's told me that he loves me before, but he actually wrote it down. It's like signing a contract (I'm an f'ed up kid, I know). "I love you too."

I then put a cap on the pen, and stuffed it in my pocket. I looked at my hand, and it was covered in Indian ink. So was his.

"Should we just smear the ink until we get to the beach?" Duncan asked.

"Good idea." I nodded, and began rubbing my hands together. Soon, the words were barely legible.

We then arrived at a too-familiar forest. In the distance, I could see the beach. But in the opposite direction, there were cabins, a mess hall, and a huge cliff.

We were back in hell. We were back at the island.

Wait…we drove to an _island_? That was in the middle of a lake? With no bridges anywhere?

This was a total mind fuck. I've been screwed with for a whole summer. Courtney did say she saw a McDonald's here, but I thought she was just high or something.

We all walked over to the beach, and Chris announced that we were competing in a sandcastle building competition. Oh, how wonderful.

Harold was elected architect (since nobody else really felt like taking the honor), and immediately began constructing his Taj Ma-Harold. As we were helping to get more buckets of sand, he kept bragging that "just the witty name of such a castle will win the judges over".

Keep dreaming.

After about four trips, I remembered my hands, and rubbed the ink off in the lake. I hauled off another two buckets, until I gave up. This was ridiculous. I grabbed Duncan's wrist and we both snuck off to the bus.

"Why exactly are we heading off to the bus?" he asked.

"To dismantle it," I smiled evilly, and we continued walking towards the bus.

"I like the way you think," he grinned maliciously with me.

We arrived at the bus, and Duncan immediately went inside to get the tools Chef usually kept nearby. I hopped up on the hood of the bus. I needed to sit down.

"What are you going to do first?" I called over.

"First we disconnect the horn," Duncan called back. "If we accidentally set it off, we're screwed."

I nodded and hopped off of the hood. It was simple enough. Then, he opened the hood and looked inside.

"Hm." He looked around. "Aha!"

He found the battery, yanked it out of the car, and looked around.

"You're going to throw the battery away?" I asked, and laughed. "What, you want to be trapped here forever?"

"Don't sweat it, Gwens…I'll put it back tomorrow." Duncan promised. I looked at the battery. It was huge, and was soaked in grease and it dripped all over his hands.

"Well, where are you keeping it?" I inquired. "It's filthy."

"You know how there's sort of a lattice foundation under the cabins?" Duncan asked. "I'll put it under there."

I shrugged. It was going to be a big-ass hole, but it would do for now.

"If you want to meet tonight, where should we go?" I asked. Even though we were locking ourselves in this slimy camp for the cabins, Duncan was worth way more. Way, way more.

He thought for a moment and said, "Maybe the beach? Or that cliff…I dunno."

"I think the beach will fit better…the cliff is too steep."

"It's lower ground."

"Screw lower ground."

"Okay then."

He then closed the hood, and sat on top of it.

"So no trailers tonight." I sighed in relief. "Those things are redneck-ish."

"Everything in the United States is redneck-ish." He laughed.

"Sitting on top of this bus like we're in _Dukes of Hazzard _is redneck-ish."

"No, mullets are redneck-ish."

"I hate them. It looks like a rat's corpse. Who says it's 'business in the front, party in the back', anyway?"

"The same people who _have _mullets."

I nodded. How true. I looked down, and leaned my head against his shoulder.

"I really don't want to go back to the beach." I sighed. "Beach challenges don't appeal to me."

"Yeah," he shrugged. He then looked at the massive car battery on the ground. "Er…I should put this under the cabins right about now."

"You should." I agreed. He then jumped off of the hood and lugged the battery to the cabins. I then wiped off my forehead. The heat was unbelievable today, even under the shade.

A while later, Duncan came back, panting.

"It took _so _much energy to bust through that fucking lattice." He said.

"Well, then, sit down," I patted the hood of the car. "The metal of the car is a little warmer than the actual temperature, but who cares."

He nodded and sat down. After he caught his breath again, it grew quiet. There was nothing really else to do.

So, (being the whore-ish romantics we were), we started kissing. His hand then slooowly snaked up my shirt. I stop kissing him to say, "Undo my bra, and _I shank you_."

He then playfully said, "Pfft, suck the fun out of _everything_."

Well, I wouldn't mind if he unhooked my bra in the middle of the night, secluded from the rest of the world, all alone. Here? In broad daylight? No. Never.

His hand was still under my shirt. It was amazingly warm, even in this hot temperature.

After a few minutes of such pleasure, we realized the contest must be over. If not, near the end. Before people realize we were gone (or decided to come look for us), we snuck back. While I slowly yet casually walked out of the forest and began patting the sandcastle (which was done fabulously) smooth, Heather quickly realized that the "disappointments of Generation Y" (says the girl who has no hobbies except for being a bitch) who were gone for so long mysteriously returned.

She marched over and demanded, "Where were you?"

I shrugged and replied, "I was looking for more buckets." I investigated her. She had no buckets to carry any water whatsoever, and wasn't helping smooth out the edges of the Taj Ma-Harold.

"At least I was helping so our lazier teammates can continue to sit on their fat asses doing nothing at all." I smirked.

"Ha! Ha ha!" I heard Izzy exclaim, howling with laughter. After she caught Heather's death stare, she whimpered, "Sorry."

"At least I was actually on the freaking beach!" Heather snapped back.

"Jesus, Heather…" Duncan complained. He was simply collecting nearby shells. "Shut the fuck up…"

She sneered, "And where were you?!"

"I forgot my lighter in the bus." He quickly replied.

"Why would you need a lighter for a sandcastle building challenge?" she demanded.

"You can melt sand down to make glass," he proposed. "That would be a heavenly addition to this fine structure."

DJ shrugged and said, "The dude's got a point."

Heather stood up and stomped her foot in frustration. "Whenever _I _do what I'm supposed to do, I get blamed. And you two sneak off and 'get buckets' and everyone's okay with it?! What the hell?!"

Owen said indifferently (I've never really seen him in any mood but happy), "It's easy to understand, Heather. _We _think Duncan and Gwen are awesome people. You? Not so much."

"Whatever." She rolled her eyes and continued sitting on the beach like the fat ass she was.

"Bitch," I growled under my breath.

After an hour or two, it was about four minutes before judging. The Killer Grips had an impressive papier-mâché sandcastle (extremely clever on Beth's part). However, ours was organic, remarkable, and downright amazing. Not to brag, but, I couldn't help admitting the truth.

Of course, a few minutes before judging, karma bit me in the ass and a flock of seagulls swooped down and destroyed our whole sandcastle. What the hell!? Everyone stood in horror, disappointment, or anger as the castle fell.

Harold angrily stomped his foot. "Dammit! I worked so hard on that!"

"Alpha Nerd, we won the first challenge," Duncan sighed, as if he knew everything. Sometimes, he was right. And sometimes, he was just being a dick. "The tie-breaker won't be so hard. What else is there to do?"

So, Chris asked us to all leave the beach while they set up the tie-breaker. Duncan and I went to the cliff. After the grueling trip up, I simply sat down and looked at the lake. The safe circle was still there, and so was the dead-zone.

I sighed. "I actually sort of miss it here."

"Meh." Duncan shrugged. "Besides it being infested by roaches, crazies, and animal corpses, it was fine."

"Graphic description," I shivered, "but 100% accurate."

"Ha," he laughed. "It really is."

I poked my head over the edge of the cliff, and looked straight down at the zone.

"It still looks threatening." I whimpered.

He laid down next to me, looking down. "I know."

It was quiet for a while until he said, "…I want to jump again."

"What are you, batshit INSANE?!" I exclaimed. Holy shizz, if he jumps, I'm going to die right here.

"No, just daring." He smirked. "It was somewhat of a rush."

I grabbed his wrist. "Don't you fucking dare. This is practically suicide, darling."

He hesitated and sat back down. He mumbled out, "You're right."

It was silent again until he said, "What do you think the tie-breaker is?"

"Something stupid and fatal." I sighed. "It always is. Take this freaking cliff for example. And the time I had to cross that ravine with those evil birds coming at me from all directions. Oh, and how about abandoning us on that deserted island to die?"

"How about the time he gave us those ridiculous challenges for the keys to those chests?" he said. "I jumped through a damned fire hoop to get chips and a chocolate bar."

"And Heather just had to sneak into a stupid little fridge and she got a gift basket," I growled. Heather. I used to love that name as a kid. Now it's ruined.

"I know!" Duncan exclaimed. "I did the same thing a week before! It's so fucking easy!"

"Yeah, you got all that food with Courtney." I remembered. "And you smeared a peanut-butter smiley face on Harold's sheet? That was a fun evening."

"The hilarious part of that is that the kid's allergic to peanuts." He laughed. "He slept on the floor that night."

"How nice of you," I said sarcastically, and laughed.

Suddenly, the megaphone thing that stood nearby turned on. The feedback screeched throughout the "island", and all you heard afterwards were the lyrics to "Say it Ain't So":

_You've cleaned up, found Jesus,_

_Things are good – or so I hear…_

Until its volume was lowered and Chris said, "Okay, cast mates, report to the beach immediately!"

Duncan sighed and stood up. He held out his hand to help me up. I grabbed it, and got up.

"Thank you," I nodded in acknowledgement, and we headed to the beach.

**A/N: Yay! Long chapter is over! x]**


	14. Ch14: Sneaking Around

**A/N: Get ready for "M" material, kiddies. MEEHEE. And no offense to the people who like the artists that I flame (I'm an early-90's child.)**

The beach was acne'd with tiki lights, and hibiscus flowers were scattered all over the tables. Chris was standing in the center of it all, and a stereo was right behind him.

"Welcome back, cast mates!" he exclaimed. "Welcome to the 1st Annual Total Drama Dance-Off!"

Damn it.

"Choose one dancer that will represent your team," Chris announced. "You have 30 seconds."

"Ooh!" LeShawna rose her hand. "You have to choose me! Back home, I'm known as Le-Shake It!"

"Really." Duncan rolled his eyes.

I frowned in disapproval. I know how Duncan and LeShawna do _not _get along. Hell, when they found themselves tied together last season, I expected one of them to maul the other. But if they got in a fight, God knows I'll have to break it up, because nobody else will. Maybe DJ, but that's probably it.

"And can _you_ dance, chicken boy?" LeShawna snapped. Oh, Lord. This was not going to end well.

"There's a difference between you and me." Duncan said. "I _don't_ like to dance, and I don't like to humiliate myself, either. You actually find it fun. In addition, you humiliate yourself all while doing so."

LeShawna clenched her teeth, and I swear, she was imagining his slow and painful death at the same time. Duncan was about to pounce and scratch at her. No, this wasn't going according to plan.

"Let's not get hostile here!" I exclaimed, jumping in between them. I turned to LeShawna and calmly said, "Dance as you wish."

She smiled, and ran straight out onto the dance floor. Duncan simply stared at her with a blank look on his face. It looked like he wouldn't move, or say anything at all, until he indifferently said, "Yep, we're screwed."

I playfully elbowed him and said, "She's the only one here that's excited about dancing. Besides, she could actually be good at it."

We then carefully watched Justin mosey on over next to her.

"Dancers! Begin in 3…2…1…" Chris pronounced, and after the countdown, he put on "Billie Jean". I hated this song. It tried too hard to be mysterious. I felt like kicking that fancy-ass stereo off the table and onto the cold, hard ground. But, instead, I watched our two competitors. And, to put it simply…

They both sucked. Justin looked like Michael Jackson on even _more_ drugs. However, Lindsay and Beth looked absolutely star-struck. They were four minutes away from nominating him for a Grammy or something.

Shows only how far you can get with good looks, until that day you have an accident, an overdose, or everyone finds out you're ugly on the inside. Then all the people start flocking away. Believe me; Justin's going to fall at one point. He's going to fall _hard_.

It's not like LeShawna wasn't any better. Her dance was too eccentric to take seriously. Duncan and I stared in absolute horror.

"L-like I said before…we're screwed." He stuttered out. I slowly nodded "yes", my eyes burned onto the abomination that is LeShawna's dancing. Heather looked appalled, like her eyes would ooze out of her sockets any minute. DJ looked absolutely turned-on (which made me want to vomit even more), and Harold was dancing with her.

Duncan gently grabbed my wrist as he slowly crept away from the scene.

I whispered, "Where are you going?"

"I'm leaving. I'm going anywhere but–"

At that moment, he accidentally stepped on a rope that held up an ornate light above the scene. The rope unlatched, and the light fell to the ground (it was paper, so it didn't shatter or anything). As Justin was dancing, he accidentally tripped over the wire frame that held the light-bulb. The light-bulb then shattered as his leg crushed it. Duncan and I quickly walked up so we weren't blamed for this fiasco (even though it was our fault).

"OH NO!" Beth shrieked, and ran up to Justin's side. "Are you okay? Did any of the glass get in your leg? Are you badly burned? Can you get up?"

"I think a silver or two of glass pierced my skin, but otherwise, I'm alright." Justin said.

Yes, you heard me right. He said "_silver_ or two". I sighed in absolute disappointment. My hairbrush knows more than that boy does.

Lindsay rushed up and said, "Josh, if you're ginger-ailing, can I be your nurse?"

"No! I'm his nurse! You're too late!" Beth counteracted Lindsay.

"Did he _deem_ you to be his nurse?!" Lindsay asked. "Did he actually say, 'Beth, can you be my nurse?' So, the job is still available!"

"No, it's not! I'm already by his side, I'm taking care of _Justin_." She said sternly. Then, she gently patted Justin's hair. "Ooh, your hair is softer than usual…"

"Suck up!" Lindsay pointed at Beth.

Before things got feisty, Justin sat up, and scooted between the two. "Girls, please. I don't think I'll need any medical assistance, thank you. I'm really perfectly fine."

They both let out their hands to help Justin up, until Beth eyed Lindsay with a cold death stare. Lindsay narrowed her eyes and kept her hand out anyways. Justin grabbed both of their hands, and as he tried to stand up, he fumbled.

"I can't walk on this. I need to take the silvers out…" he said.

"You mean _slivers_." I corrected him. Well, at least I put something in his empty skull.

"Whatever, Gwen." He turned back to his leg. "Anyone have tweezers?"

Chris came up to Justin and said, "There's a medical tent nearby, we can get you some attention there…"

"Fine, that'll work," Justin shrugged. With the help of Lindsay and Beth, he limped towards the direction of the tent. Chris led the way.

Moments afterward, LeShawna looked around and said, "Hey, does this mean I won?"

Chef said, "You bet, kid," which caused LeShawna to cheer in utter delight. She then came towards us, her hand out for high-fives. When she came up to Duncan, her hand retreated as she said, "You call that _humiliating_? Ha!"

Duncan shrugged and went, "Pffft, whatever." Under his breath, he mumbled, "The bitch still humiliated herself…"

Then, as Chef walked up towards the light of a tiki torch, me and Duncan noticed all of the oil and grease stains on his shirt and hands.

Duncan leaned in closer to me and whispered, "Enjoy your cabin, darling."

"Oh, believe me, I will." I smiled.

"Well, some son of a bitch stole the car battery." Chef said in exasperation. "Stay in your old cabins tonight, I guess."

I grinned even wider, until LeShawna asked, "Wait. What was the reward for winning the challenge?"

"Dance party. Knock yourselves out." He mumbled as he threw the stereo remote in DJ's direction. He simply turned it on, and the Michael Jackson terror continued.

I sat down on a log, looking at my surroundings. People were dancing while the Grips were probably all surrounding Justin at the medical tent. I decided to stare out at the lake. It was pretty. Slow, calm waves slid on and off the shore, and the reflections off of the tiki lights made it glisten. I was totally engrossed in it. You find beauty in the strangest places – even in a slimy, heavily polluted Canadian lake.

Suddenly, somebody tugged on my sleeve. I turned around, and it was, of course, Duncan. I stood up, stepped over the log, and hurried out into the forest with him.

The music still pounded, but at least this was secluded. I felt slightly guilty on not taking sides on the whole LeShawna thing, actually. I felt that I sent out a vibe that said, "I'm on LeShawna's side, not yours, hon." If we already released the fact we were dating to the public, maybe I would take sides. But, I needed my friends more than ever here. I freaking love them, but I had to keep them close in order to make it far again.

"Holy fuck," Duncan said, "she has no skill when it comes to dancing, does she?"

"Not at all," I laughed. I kept it down to a low. If I could hear the music, there was a chance a very keen ear could hear us.

"Um…" he hesitated. He really, really wanted to say something.

"What is it?" I asked.

"…your eyes are sparkling." He said awkwardly. His face turned red (he wasn't a very romantic teenager, so compliments like that made him blush). "Sorry, I couldn't help but notice it…"

I smiled. "It's fine. That was actually pretty sweet."

I proceeded to sit on his lap, hitch my legs around his waist, and began kissing him. Violently. He seemed sort of caught off guard, but he soon got into it. This was running smoothly.

All the while, his forefingers were running from my left shoulder down to the bottom of my shirt. As the tip of his index finger slid underneath, he felt hesitant, maybe due to the event that happened hours before. But, I kept kissing him harder and harder; as if a signal saying, "Do whatever."

Wait…correct that. It sent out a signal saying, "Do whatever, just don't get me pregnant."

That's correct.

He received the message correctly, and his hand slid under my shirt, and stopped at the bra. Jesus, hon, _snap it_. I don't think I could kiss him any harder without splitting my lips open.

After a while, libido probably kicked in, and he snapped my bra in under a millisecond. Holy fucking shit. It was that fast.

I then slid off his lap onto the ground, which was carpeted with fallen leaves. I lied down, due to the fact he was taller than me, and it was a slight challenge getting to the perfect eye level. I was fine with this until I realized…if I'm on the bottom, he's on top. I had a slightly immature moment, where you just want to laugh and go, "Damn, that's a knee-slapper". But, following that, you realize you're dating him, and this is not your "hilarious" sitcom on FOX. This is reality, here. There is the usual moment where you scream in your mind "Wait…holy shit, not now! NOT HERE!" But, it seems right. And stopping such a moment is like breaking glass – you just can't do it without something else feeling wrong.

I hope that made sense. It's just a hard emotion to explain.

I really wanted to make a move. The only move that seemed slightly appropriate here was to relieve him of his shirt. Just as I was about to begin, the music stopped.

"Oh, shit." Duncan got up.

"What? The party's simply over…" I shrugged.

"We had a fifteen-minute after-party? I doubt it." He looked over. "I think they're wondering where the hell we went."

"We'll just say we went back to our cabins." I suggested.

"Um…let's sit by the log, like, lay down next to each other." He said. "Stay low. We'll just say they missed us."

I nodded, and as he was making his way over to the log, I quickly re-did my bra, and snuck over with him. I laid down on my stomach, as if I were sledding or something. To make it even more casual, I took out my iPod, put it on, and gave Duncan the left earpiece. He grabbed the iPod, and put on an Escape the Fate song ("Not Good Enough for the Truth in Cliché") that I haven't listened to in months. Reminded me of how much I wanted Ronnie Radke back in the band.

Of course, that's the same time we learned that, no, the party was not over. And nobody cared to look for us. The fucking stereo broke. So, the fantasy I had fully indulged myself in – the one I've been waiting for since that time he dragged me behind the Mess Hall for the best damn kiss of my life – ruined by a stereo gone kaput.

I sighed. Starting from where we left off was impossible. All of the thrills dissolved like sugar in a glass of water. I then heard the music come back on, and there was a round of applause. We can go.

I grabbed his wrist and said, "C'mon, there's a lot of time left of the party. Let's go back."

He turned the iPod off, handed it back, and snuck off with me again.

We came up to our previous spot. As I proceeded to kneel down, he grabbed my hand and said, "Let's go further into the forest…we're so fucking lucky we didn't get caught before."

We then came up to another slightly large, deserted area that was bigger than the last. Only, there was a huge patch of dirt. So, there was probably going to be dirt all over ourselves.

However, before we tried to regain that moment, Duncan noticed the bracelets on my wrist. "Crap, I forgot to break a white one the last…twelve times."

He snapped a two white ones (Make Out) to offset today's activities. That's when I noticed there was only one white one left. Ah, shit.

Before he could notice, I began kissing him violently, trying to disregard the horrible music that played back at the party. Of course, his hand slowly went up the middle of my back, unhooked my bra, and in simply moments (he was doing this like it was a goddamned marathon) we were in the same position as we were before we left to go back to the bash.

I decided, well, if he seriously thought that he could regain the magic that was in the last make-out session (rudely interrupted by our own assumptions), then I guess I'll humor him.

I relieved him of his shirt. Holy fuck. He was _so freaking warm._ It seemed natural – yet highly inappropriate – until I gave "inappropriate" a punch in the face and deemed it natural again – that I remove mine as well. My bra remained unlatched, yet it wasn't completely off. The straps still remained in place. My "whore" status was (thankfully) not achieved just yet.

Well, that was until the right strap slid off my shoulder. Fuck you, gravity.

Duncan didn't seem to acknowledge it, and kept kissing. He then bit and began to suck on my lower lip. It got pretty intense. And _that's_ when we heard distant footsteps. This was turning out to be a highly interrupted evening.

"Oh shit." I whimpered. We quickly scurried to go back into the normal BFF scenario. I was truthfully tired of always having to hide this. I mean, now, this was a huge half of my life here. This is the person so freaking dear to me that I've been spending a majority of time with. I was exasperated. Always having to switch the truth to this fucking public lie was annoying. I was five minutes away from screaming the truth.

But that's when I realized that would be a pretty awkward position. We'd most likely be the _only_ couple on the island. Because LeShawna dumped Harold, Izzy and Owen aren't so strong anymore, and Beth and Justin's relationship is simply one-sided. We were going to be the only strong couple. The cameras would be all over us, and those secretive nights in that patch of green grass in the forest would only be a distant memory.

I erased the thought from my memory, and things were (sort of) fine again. We got up and casually began walking towards the party. The footsteps were unheard of. The person must have turned around and walked back. If they ask what the hell we were doing, we'll just say we were in an argument and wanted to settle it alone…with our lips…shirtless. That's acceptable, right?

On the way back, Duncan whispered, "This is ridiculous."

"What is?" I asked.

"The fact we've been interrupted for the second time." Duncan said, clearly irked. "It's annoying."

I sighed. "I guess we'll just stay at the party, then."

As much as I didn't want to, these interruptions were bullshit. I couldn't be alone with him for fifteen minutes without a rude interruption.

He held my hand and said, "When everybody is in the cabins, we'll have a very, very small chance of interruption. So, no worries there."

"Good." I grinned.

As we arrived to the party scene, he let go of my hand, and the cool night air bounded itself around my hand. It was amazing how fast you can get used to something on your skin.

We sat down, not paying attention to the horrible music. And guess what? They've changed from Michael Jackson…to Justin Bieber! Here's a question: Isn't it just wonderful listening to these two…er, visionaries? (Answer: Hell no!)

And, the food wasn't that great, either. It was from the crappy McDonald's the island secretly neighbored. So, fattening Dollar Menu selections covered the entire table. Simply _looking_ at it made me want to throw up.

Inevitably, Queen Bitch marched over. She was like a hawk, eyeing every move I made. She could be a hawk, or maybe even a stalker. Eh, I'll go with creepy stalker in Satan's service.

"Where were you two? Again?!" she demanded. Damn it. This was the second time – nay, it was technically the third. And that was just from today.

"We didn't really like the music, so we decided to go talk on the corner of the beach." I pointed towards it.

"I'm not a pop-tastic person." Duncan said, looking absolutely bored with the whole party.

"Whatever the hell you're doing," Heather warned (oh yeah. Really scared of her now), "it better not fuck up any chances I have of winning this competition."

"Excuse me, Heather! Language!" I exclaimed, somewhat sarcastically. Ha, like I'm not a cuss-a-holic myself.

She left with a "harrumph", and grabbed a cheeseburger off of the table. Oh my God. It was horrific to watch. But, I decided to take the situation and poke some fun at it. After all, making fun of Heather is probably what I've been born to do.

"If you take one more bite out of that burger," I shouted, "you'd be lucky if you fit into a size large."

I sat back down. Not the best of insults, but she was already pretty freaking fat at the hips. I guess I am, too, but honestly I'm just saying that to keep myself from looking like a total bitch. At least I'll admit my beauty problems; not prancing around in booty shorts like I'm hot shit. I was sometimes judgmental about my appearances, but every other time, I didn't care what people thought. It was my style, and I loved it.

She eyed me, and continued to eat it. I was four bites from throwing up all over my shoes. And I loved my combat boots, dammit.

Me and Duncan kept talking for the remaining forty-five minutes, usually whispering an occasional "I love you" or something similar when nobody was looking. We spent the time talking about the usual: movies, music, and even Courtney.

"Her sandals," Duncan criticized, "are freaking hideous. They wrap around her ankle, like stripper heels meet flip-flops or something."

"They're like those sandals you get at Wal-Mart for five dollars on clearance." I nodded. "I bet they've already broken. Cheap material."

"I know," he nodded. "At least I have long-lasting shoes. They're _fucking Converse._ And your shoes are leather. They're gonna last for a pretty damn long time."

"Yeah." I said. I then laughed and said, "Wow, we're pretty freaking mean…"

"Bitch deserves it," he said sharply, remembering everything that went down on this "island". "I break my ankle, and she leaves me for a million dollars. And she never takes elimination or rejection well."

"She's a daddy's girl who expects to get everything she wants."

"Even if she begs, pleads, gives me anything I want to take her back, I won't." He shook his head. "I'm glad she's not here. She'd turn this into…I dunno…a dictatorship? A communist show or something?"

"Courtney-ist." I shrugged, and smiled at my own joke.

DJ must have overheard us and said, "Courtney? No offense, Duncan, but that girl is crazy."

He nodded. "She left me for that case that she ended up losing anyway."

"Because she's the result of Satan raping Hillary Clinton!" I blurted out. Oops. Too graphic, too weird, and way too loud. "Oopsies."

Duncan and DJ actually laughed.

"Gross. Weird. But holy shit. That is so freaking true." Duncan said.

"It was," DJ agreed. "I'm not a fan of sick humor, but…wow."

We continued talking until DJ said something that would bug me for the rest of the night.

"Not to sound nosy or anything," he started, "but you two would make a nice couple."

I froze. "Um, we're just friends…"

"Yeah…" he was pretending to be just as awkward, or maybe he wasn't pretending.

"Sorry," DJ quickly apologized. "Cuz you like the same things, same style, stuff like that."

"Yeah, I can see…" I nodded.

The conversation went on until Chris came back saying, "Okay, time to go to the cabins."

Everyone sighed in disappointment, and started walking to the cabins.

On the way towards the old cabins, Duncan wrapped his right arm around my waist, and led me behind the old communal washrooms.

I he began kissing me until he stopped and said, "I'll see you in two hours on the beach. Love you."

And he left. When he was inside his cabin, I smiled even wider, and fell to the ground, absolutely love-struck.

I'm the happiest girl in the world.


	15. Ch15: Rats

**A/N: My chapters are too long for me to feel like rereading. I feel some sort of shame in that. xD**

I sat in my bunk, and when I got up to get my pajamas, I realized we had to sleep in our regular clothes, since our pajamas are back at the trailers.

When I decided to get up to draw some sketches, I realized they're at the trailer, too.

That's when I sat up, waiting for two hours to pass. This was going to be a while. Heather was looking around through the cabin, until I heard her shriek.

"_Rat!_" she screamed, and jumped on the top bunk.

Oh my God. A litter of rats scurried in all directions. Nobody had the guts to kill them.

"Open the door, let them out!" I said. LeShawna leaped towards the door, and opened the door. I dashed out along with Beth and Lindsay.

We ran towards the side of the cabin, and sat down.

"Let's wait here until they clear out the rats," Beth panted.

"Sure," I nodded.

That's when Lindsay said, "Gwen…"

I nodded.

"…do you like Duncan?" she asked. I froze. Oh, shit. If Doorknob noticed this, all of the people with higher IQ's (which is everybody but Justin, him and Lindsay are about even) would have noticed, too.

"No," I shook my head. "We're just really close friends."

"I saw you two in the woods." Lindsay said. "You two were holding hands on the way back to the after-party. I was just taking a stroll, looking for a gift to give to Justin while he's gingerale-ing."

"I think you mean _ailing_." Beth corrected. "Gingerale is a beverage, usually served to help an upset stomach."

"Let me explain," I quickly interrupted, putting the conversation back on topic. I closed my eyes, and sighed. I need to come up with a good excuse. "I had my hand on this freezing rock, and I complained about it so much to the point he held my hand to warm it."

Beth and Lindsay looked at me skeptically, when I said, "He'll confirm it tomorrow. That's exactly what happened, nothing more."

"Well, okay…" Beth said, unsure. "Besides, he's dating Courtney, right?"

"Not really." I explained. "Back when we were all casing the case, he broke his ankle, and Courtney abandoned him. That's sort of where he dumped her."

"Oh my God!" Lindsay gasped. "I never heard that! That's so mean!"

"Totally!" Beth agreed.

I nodded. "It happened; it's on tape and everything."

Out of nowhere, four rats scurried out the door and far away from the cabin. Izzy leaned her head out and said, "Those dastardly rats are outta here! Come on in, it's _freezing_!!"

We all settled back into our beds, and I checked the time. That passed fifteen minutes. Only an hour and forty-five minutes to go.

That was the longest time I've ever had to wait in my life.

Everybody was fast asleep, while I sat up, patiently waiting for the time to leave.

I grabbed my journal (I brought it here, and I placed it under my bunk), and began writing to pass the time:

_Dearest Journal,_

_Today was a very…unique day. We had a beach challenge. First, it was in a warehouse that had the ability to give you severe frostbite. It was terrible, mostly due to the fact we were in our fucking swimsuits._

_Except for the point at which the goblin sharks Chris had in captivity jumped out._

_Not a very fun, relaxing moment or position to be in. They had huge freaking teeth – nay, they had huge _knifes disguised as teeth._ But, as everybody was freaking out over these creatures flopping on the concrete floor, Duncan wrapped his arms around me for protection._

_It was absolutely the sweetest thing I've ever seen. Of course, that's when I realized that this relationship was supposed to be a secret, and quickly let go…_

I continued writing about my whole day – not caring about who the hell may find it, because nobody will – until the time passed. So far, I was up to the part where the stereo broke, and we freaked out.

I closed the journal, and put a lock on it (having my diary read on international television taught me a few things). The key was in my shoe, because it originally stayed on my lucky necklace chain. Now that it's in my suitcase due to its horrible chain, Heather (or anyone else devilish for that matter) could easily get a hold of it.

I stored it in my pillowcase, and made my way to the beach.

On my way, it was extremely dark. I had a tough time seeing where I was going. However, the sight of the moonlight reflecting off of the lake helped steer myself in the right direction.

A while later, the lake was a yard or two in front of me, and my foot sunk into the sand. I smiled. I made it. And now, to the corner of the beach where Duncan said he'll meet me.

I looked over. I saw a small glint of light reflecting off of his eyes. Seeing him simply _there_ made me smile wider than anything else in the world.

I slowly made my way over. I kneeled beside him and said, "Hi."

"Hey, you made it." He grinned. "You had a rat, I hear?"

"Yeah," I nodded. "Oh yeah, if Lindsay asks why the hell we were holding hands, its because my hand was cold, 'kay?"

He sat up, concerned. "She was the one in the forest?"

"Well, thank God it wasn't someone antagonistic, like Justin or Heather." I reminded him.

"True," he said. "But you gave her a good excuse?"

"Yup." I nodded. "I told her I had my hand on a rock, and it was cool, so my hand was practically an icicle. And I complained so much, that you held my hand to warm it. That makes sense, doesn't it?"

He paused, and responded, "Well, the girl who thinks dragonflies are part of the reptile family buys anything, Gwens."

"She does," I laughed. Just then, a frosty breeze brushed past. I felt goose-bumps on my skin, and automatically put my head on Duncan's chest. He was more delightful than hot chocolate during a blizzard.

I nuzzled into his chest, and he put his arm around me.

It was a sweet sort of cuddling moment. Dorky, yet sweet.

After I got somewhat warmer, I sat up. His arm was still around me. We began talking about the day's events.

Out of nowhere, I heard Owen say, "Are you two going out?"

I jumped. The color in Duncan's face drained out.

Owen was innocently standing there, excited at such a possibility.

I had no clue what the hell to do. Owen was trustworthy. But you could very easily poke a secret out of him. I had no clue what the hell to do.

**A/N: Dun dun dunnn! :]**


	16. Ch16: Auto Repairs

**A/N: Here, the next installment of my story. *curtsies* Enjoy.**

I sat there, petrified, until I said, "No."

"Aw, really?!" he complained. "That would've been pretty intriguing, if I do say so myself."

"Yeah…we're just close friends." Duncan said awkwardly. "We were talking, she got cold…"

"Can't get much simpler than that." I added.

"Oh." Owen sighed. "Okay-dokey. See you two later."

As he was leaving, Duncan whispered, "Can we just tell him?"

I shook my head. "If anyone asks, they can get it out of him easily."

"Fine…fine." Duncan sighed. He held me tighter and said, "Whatever you want, hun."

I grinned. When we knew that Owen was definitely gone, things were at peace again.

He then pointed out, "You know, if we were smart, we'd probably leave, because if Owen told anybody where we are, we'll be dead."

I put my head on his shoulder and began stroking his chest while saying, "Well, we're not that smart."

"Okay, then." He shrugged. He then reached into his pocket and offered spearmint gum.

"Aren't you the generous one?" I said jokingly. He never offered anything at all, really. It was sort of shocking.

"I have four more packs of this shit," he said. "I don't want to waste it until it gets too much moisture and leaks everywhere."

"Oh, yeah. I can't stand that," I said. I didn't feel like chewing gum, and told him, "I'm gonna save this for tomorrow, since we don't have our toothbrushes with us."

"Ah, Jesus, I forgot." He said in irritation. He smacked his forehead. "That's disgusting."

"I know," I sighed. "I'm not the cleanest person, but hygiene is still something I concern over."

"Same here." He nodded his head once. "I can live under tough conditions, but I prefer not to. Like, I can survive juvenile hall, camping, and staying awake for three days, but I'd rather stay in a normal house instead of anything over-the-top like this."

"Of course." I nodded.

"Yep." He slowly nodded until his eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"What?" I asked. "There's nothing important to do at the moment…"

"We forgot the fucking bus!" he exclaimed. I reached up to grab his arm and tell him we could wait, but before I could grab his arm, he grabbed my wrist and pulled me up, while repeatedly saying under his breath, "Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit."

"Don't worry," I said, "as long as we're quiet, we can easily sneak the battery back into the car."

"Babe, someone is probably going to catch us." He clarified. "I know it."

We snuck off to the cabin where the battery was hidden. Duncan reached his hand in, pulled it out, and lugged it to the bus. There was a grease trail. A few moments after I noticed it forming, I put my hands under the spot where the grease dripped.

We got to the car. I opened the hood, and Duncan installed the battery back in.

"We're good." He exhaled. "Safe."

I then closed the hood, and grabbed his wrist with both of my hands. I dragged him back to the spot where we were before, until I noticed that I left a deep black grease stain on his skin.

"We should wash this off." I said. He noticed the grease stain and nodded. We walked over to the lake. The water was three-fourths of an inch deep where we were standing, and we splashed our hands in the water (since grease wasn't a polar substance, it came straight off).

I shook my hands clear of the water, I plopped back down. He did, too.

That's when I realized the moonlight. It was a full moon. The water of the lake rippled, and the reflection of the moon off of the lake was mystifying. The crickets sang. If it weren't for the moon, it would be pitch black. It was a fairly romantic evening.

I then put my arms around his neck (the choker thing was blunt, in case any of you were curious) and passionately kissed him.

The frigid breeze blew again. I shivered, and got closer to him. That's when his right hand glided down from the back of my neck, across my shoulder, and went down my side. As he got to the bottom of my top, his hand slowly went up my shirt.

However, I think he could tell I was freezing, because he made no attempt to take my shirt off in anyway.

To compensate, I began kissing him harder. I didn't feel slutty enough to kiss him with tongue. I felt that this was a pleasant evening, something you'd maybe see in a romance movie, or picture in a romance novel. Kissing with tongue would make it…well, sluttish.

After the action cooled down, we decided going back to the cabins would be best. First of all, it was freezing. Second of all, we weren't entirely secluded. It made me nervous. Anyone could walk up and find out the secret we've been trying to hard to conceal.

I hugged him, and dug my fingers into his back. I will repeat – he was _warm_.

I then loosened my grip, smiled sweetly, and looked at him. His pupils sort of…shrank in size. It was strange.

"See you tomorrow." He said. "Love you."

I walked away. I wondered what the pupil thing was about. Clearly, something instantly irked him. But for the life of me, I did not know why.


	17. Ch17: The Brits

**A/N: Erm, I'm not good at "sweet, sappy". So…writing about Trent for a spell isn't something I excel in. :D**

I snuck back in my bed, and lied down. I had no clue what I did. I wasn't even sure if I did anything.

It may be nothing, though. I remember learning as a child that your pupils change when the lighting changes. Maybe at the angle of where he was standing, maybe the moonlight shone? I wasn't sure.

Whatever it is, I had to find out.

I stared up endlessly before getting out my diary again. I unlocked it, and continued the entry I started earlier. That's when an envelope slipped out.

I never noticed it before. It was stuffed randomly between the pages.

I examined it. On the front was addressed, "Gwen".

It wasn't Duncan's handwriting. I could tell right off the bat. Either some guy here (other than Duncan) likes me, or it's from somebody in the past.

I opened the letter up. I expected _English_, but I didn't get that. I got two sheets of music. In the corner, it read, "To be played on Acoustic Guitar, 1st Position. Slow tempo."

Holy shit. It must be from Trent. I didn't know how to play guitar, so I couldn't read how the song went, but the lyrics were neatly written underneath, and then written as a poem on the back:

_Every time we touch,_

_I feel a rush,_

_And every time we kiss,_

_I have a feeling of bliss…_

That was the first four lines. The rest of the song had lines so much sweeter and special. And, if Duncan was reading this with me, he'd probably talk about how Trent was a gayass douchebag.

However, this was the sweetest thing anyone has ever done. Nobody has ever written a song for me. And, it was written so professionally. He clearly took a lot of time to write this. I began to tear up. I felt like a bitch. However, if I had to choose between Trent and Duncan, I would definitely side with Duncan, but…

…this guilt thing was immense pressure. I had to get myself off sooner or later.

I folded the song back up, locked my journal, and fell asleep.

I woke up to Heather saying, "Something just doesn't seem right."

I yawned and asked, "What doesn't seem right?"

"The bus," Beth answered for her, "it isn't broken anymore! Like it was magically repaired during the night! It makes no sense!"

"…Was it the car fairy?" Lindsay inquired innocently.

Heather turned to Lindsay and asked rudely, "Who the hell made up the Car Fairy?"

She gasped and said, "You don't know the car fairy?"

Everyone awkwardly shook their heads "no".

"He's the Tooth Fairy's long lost brother," Lindsay said. "They were separated at birth, and each had a love for the other! There's the Tooth Fairy who loves teeth, the Car Fairy who loves cars, the Shoe Fairy who loves shoes, the Pillow Fairy who loves pillows…"

"Girl?" LeShawna asked. Lindsay nodded in acknowledgement.

"…we get it."

"Okay. Well, that's why stuff disappears! But they're all mean, so they don't leave you anything in return for the stuff they stole. Except for the Tooth Fairy. He leaves money in return for the stuff he took, because he's a kind sir."

"…I…I'm speechless." I uttered out, and left to go to the showers. On my way out, I said to myself, "I hate my generation."

"You're one to talk, Goth Girl," Heather called after me.

I clenched my teeth and tightened my fist. I was about to kill her. But, I didn't want to get my hands all bloody, so I held up on that.

I walked into the communal washroom. Nobody was there. I had the whole place to myself…for now.

I walked in. My hair was a frizzy mess. I didn't know what to do with it, other than to brush it.

After I was finished, my hair looked…shit-tacular. But at least it didn't look as bad as before.

I then walked over to the flimsy screen door, and as I reached to open it, someone on the other side already did.

Duncan took a step in, looking down until he spotted my combat boots.

He looked up, smiled, and said, "Hi."

I grinned back. "Hi, Duncan."

"So, what's up with you?" he asked.

"The girls are curious how the bus is mysteriously repaired…" I told him. "Thankfully, Lindsay's keeping them busy with a mystical tale of the Car Fairy."

"…what?" Duncan asked, clearly perplexed.

"Well, to put it simply, it's stupid and illogical." I explained.

"Aw!" Duncan said jokingly, "it matches her perfectly!"

I laughed and we traded spots. I was now on the outside, he was on the inside. "I'll see you on the bus. I love you."

He smiled and said, "I love you, too."

I shut the door behind me after giving him a last smile, and left.

I went back into the girls' cabin, fixed up my bed, and grabbed my diary. The song was still tucked inside. Oh, Lord, the song. The thought of it whirled through my mind, and left a guilty feeling deep inside my stomach that I was about to throw up any moment.

I walked outside and sat on the steps of the cabins until Chris called us to the bus. I looked out towards the distance, and sighed. I was still on the fence about this whole situation. If I stayed, the guilt would linger with me, but there was a slight chance Duncan's presence and comfort would erase my mind of it. If I voted myself out, the guilt would leave, but I'd probably die of loneliness. The feeling I was experiencing was hard. I wasn't leaving for Trent. But the fact that he wrote me a freaking beautiful song and I didn't do any of those sweet gestures myself – ever – just made me feel like an unequal little bitch.

I was absolutely torn apart between the two. Oh, and not to mention Duncan's awkwardness. I was absolutely pissed off at that, too. I felt he was keeping something from me. It was a strange feeling to have.

I heard the flimsy screen door squeak open, and slam closed again. Duncan left. His hands were in his pockets and he was staring up in the sky. He looked as if he was deep in thought. I decided not to bother him, and turned on my iPod. I decided to listen to the acoustic version of "Feel Good Drag", and then the regular version of "Make Up" (my two new favorite songs – I was listening to music that's actually from this century. I thought this day would never come).

Shortly after, Chris called us back to the bus. There was a line to board the bus, and Duncan was close to the front. I left my spot, and tapped his shoulder to get his attention. He turned, smiled, and stepped forward to let me in between him and Owen.

"Why, hello there." He greeted me.

"Hello," I addressed him back. "Fancy meeting you here."

I found this early 20th century-like talk amusing. It would be pretty cool if we could keep this up for the whole bus ride.

We sat waaay in the back like before, and thankfully Heather sat in the front.

We both talked like a gentleman/fair lady would – with big words, a British accent and pretending we were wearing monocles. It was so…clichéd and weird, yet fun. Try it sometime, and you'll see my point.

The best thing was that we could talk extremely couple-like, and nobody could figure it out (or cared to try). We said phrases such as: "Miss Gwyneth Scotts, I fancy your accompaniment far too much" (which translates to "I love it when you're around) or "Sir Duncan Rivers, your tone is quite pleasant, do carry on, darling" (translates to "Your voice is pretty hot.")

People saw it as a joke, and that's what it started out as. But I saw it as somewhat of a code. It continued until ten minutes until the ride when Harold said, "Can you guys _please_ talk regularly now?!"

We both stared at him for a moment, until turning back to each other. That's when Duncan said, "Miss Scotts, it appears that young man's knickers are in a bunch…"

I chortled (oh, shit. Now I'm putting this English talk into my narration), until I turned to Harold and said, "Sir Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady the Fifth, you must agree, that was quite humorous."

Harold shrugged and said, "Sure." The bus fell silent, but not for that. The silence was finally broken when Owen asked, "…Doris?"

The only noise then was some snickering, and the bus hitting a few bumps in the road.

"…aw, shut up." Harold whined.

"It's okay, sugar baby," LeShawna comforted him until she finished, "…Doris."

"Gah!" Doris threw his arm up in frustration, and took out his Walkman (I'm dead serious. It was a Walkman).

Trying to compensate, LeShawna asked, "Whatcha listening to?"

Duncan butt in and said, "Miss LeShawna, I suspect it is the _Glee_ rendition of _Say a Little Prayer for You_."

I jokingly turned toward him and said, "Sir, how do you know of this _Glee_?"

"Miss Scotts, I must inform you that my younger sibling, Amber Loretta Rivers, views this television program regularly." He nodded.

Oh, shoot. I watched _Glee_ all the time (I'm embarrassed to say I have a huge picture of Finn in my room), and it would be nice to actually know someone who watches it. Well, I can talk about it with Duncan's little sister. But, the fact he didn't watch it sort of relieved me (I'd rather not have a boyfriend who has jazz hands and spirit fingers).

"I see." I nodded.

Doris seemed offended by the question and yelled back, "I am _not!_" he then paused and continued; "…it's actually the mash-up of _Walking on Sunshine_ and _Halo_."

That was sad. To explain how bad that was: I'm a girl, and that song is too girly for me.

"…Sir Harold Norbert Cheever Doris McGrady the Fifth, the information presented to me has explained so much for me, and I thank you." I said blankly.

"Heh heh," Duncan smiled and laughed.

Harold pounded the "Previous" button multiple times on his iPod and exclaimed, "Fine! I changed the song! GOSH!"

I looked and Duncan and whispered, "Sir Duncan Rivers, how can one possibly believe this individual?"

He shrugged and said, "M'lady – ideas? I have none."

I grinned and whispered, "I love you."

He recoiled and exclaimed, "You broke the chain!! It's over!"

I put my hands over my mouth and whimpered, "Aw, shit."

He reassuringly put his hand over mine and said, "It's fine. Haha…fun while it lasted, hm?"

I smiled, "Yeah, it was."

At least whatever irked him didn't seem to affect him nowadays. Everything felt normal. I smiled at the thought, and we continued talking back to Toronto.

**A/N: Lol. i got into the british mood after some serious "growing up cullen" and abbey road. xDDDD**


	18. Ch18: Wild West

**A/N: *sigh* Jesus Christ, I hate Westerns.**

The bus came to a halt in front of the film lot, and everybody got off. It was hot outside, and we all found ourselves fanning ourselves or dipping our feet in cold water.

Alternatively, I ran over to the green patch of grass in the woods. I sat down, and was hoping that Duncan would follow.

Ten minutes passed. He didn't show up. I sighed, and left.

I walked back to the trailers. Duncan was sitting on a bench. I walked up to him and sat next to him. "Hi."

"Hey," he nodded. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing much," I shrugged. "I was just walking around…"

"Really? In this hot weather?" he looked somewhat surprised.

"Yeah," I nodded. "I can't really stay still today. I don't know why…"

He shrugged. "I don't know, either."

Just then, Chris came up in cowboy boots and a ten-gallon hat and said, "Hello, cast-mates! Follow me to figure out what today's challenge is!"

I rolled my eyes. "A western movie?"

"Why, yes, Gwen." Chris nodded. "Now, if you could all follow me to the set…"

I shrugged, and stood up.

I turned to Duncan and said, "How come we've only had one good movie challenge so far?"

"It's because Chris can't come up with anything better than movies that were popular in the 50's." Duncan said.

"True…" I nodded. "Now, come on…might as well get this over with."

"Fine," he stood up, and we followed everybody else to the set.

Once there, we saw a huge water tower, saloons, and other Western items. This was going to be lame.

Chris then explains, "Your first challenge is to jump from the top of that water tower…onto the fine steed below you."

We turned to see a weak mule sitting at the bottom of the water tower. It looked as if it could just drop dead any moment.

Chris looked at the mule, and yelled, "Is this the best 'steed' we can afford?!"

Chef turned to Chris and said, "Well, if _you_ want a 5-star hotel, champagne, caviar, lobster…well, there has to be a cut somewhere!"

Chris quickly changed his mind and said, "It's perfect!" He then added, "Don't change _a thing_."

Oh my God. This was a 100-foot drop. When we hit the horse, it was definitely going to be killed…and God only knows what will happen when Owen jumps. This was not going to end very well.

"Okay, Screaming Gaffers, since you won last time, you jump first." Chris said. "You have thirty seconds to choose your first jumper."

"…wait, what?" I asked. For winning last time, we get to plummet to our deaths first? What the fuck?!

Duncan looked at the water tower, and back towards the team. "So…who's jumping first?"

Nobody stepped forward. I sighed. "Being captain, I guess I'm going first…"

I walked towards the ladder that led to the top of the tower. As I was climbing, I muttered to myself, "This is so freaking unbelievable…"

When I finally found myself at the top of the tower, it was unstable. Whenever the wind blew, it violently shook. Now, I felt that jumping would actually save my life rather than throw it away.

I got to the top, and looked down at the mule. I was higher than I thought I would be. Oh, Lord. I could not do this at all.

"That's it." I said to myself, "I can't do this."

As I was walking off the top of the tower, the wind blew, and the tower swayed. I lost my balance, and fell.

I was speeding through the air, knowing that I was most likely going to die, until I landed on the horse. We were both perfectly fine. I was absolutely shocked at the fact I was actually alive.

"And Gwen scores the first point for the Screaming Gaffers!" Chris exclaimed.

I immediately got off the mule and walked over to where the rest of my team waited.

"Nice to know you didn't die up there." Duncan whispered into my ear.

I looked at him, slightly annoyed, and said, "Thanks, I guess…"

It was getting quite awkward again. I needed to know what bothered him last night. _Now._

After a few more jumps, the teams were neck and neck. The second challenge? Oh, it was nothing. Just a freaking shoot-out to the death (or until someone has a minor injury, according to the show's lawyers).

So, we used Nerf guns instead. Until Owen drank all of the water and Chef refused to get any more water from the wells. Great. What the hell were we supposed to do now?!

Chris thought for a moment before saying, "Aha! How about a good old fashioned cow roping?"

I buried my face in my hands. "Oh, Jesus, don't tell me…"

Yes, we had to dress up as fucking cows, with the other team throwing ropes around our necks. This was so much safer than a water gun shootout to the death, really. The possibility of being choked to death was something I really saw as "safe".

So, as we were running around like idiots avoiding the rope that threatened to ring my neck, I did some thinking.

First of all, the song. The guilt was eating at me. If the only way I'd feel better about this is if I vote myself off. If we lost, then yes, I'd put myself out of my misery tonight. If not, then I'll wait another time, I suppose.

At that moment, a rope caught my ankle, and I fell towards the ground. There was dirt all over the front of me. I turned to see that Beth lassoed me to the floor.

After a moment of lying helplessly on the ground, Chris called time and announced that the Killer Grips won. So, I guess this was it. I didn't know how to actually vote myself off, however. I decided just putting in a vote for myself would do the trick, since Heather was against me. She could easily persuade Harold, who could persuade LeShawna, who could persuade DJ.

Made enough sense to actually work.


	19. Ch19: Reality Show Suicide

**A/N: This is at the elimination scene, I can't think of any good events to happen in between. :\**

I punched in my name for elimination. It felt odd – it was sort of like reality show suicide – but, if it was to get this nauseating feeling of guilt out of my stomach, then sure, I was fine with it.

I turned to see Duncan glaring at Heather, and Heather glaring back. There must have been some heated fight before that I must've missed, for I spent my time after we lost the challenge napping and playing Klondike on my iPod.

I sat down, impatiently tapping my foot for the results. An intern – I think his name was Phil? I dunno – gave Chris the envelope containing the results.

Chris opened the envelope and said, "And the Gilded Chris's go to…"

He grabbed one off of the tray Chef was holding, and threw it out towards Harold. With each name, he tossed one out.

"Harold, LeShawna, DJ, Duncan…" he counted. So, me and Heather were the last two people for elimination.

"And the final Chris goes to…" Chris grabbed the last award off of the tray, and held it up. Hopefully, he'd call Heather's name, and I could at least leave with a shred of dignity, knowing that this horrible feeling eating at my inside was just fuck off…

"…Gwen!" he threw the award at me. I caught it, absolutely stunned. I had a feeling that this shitty emotion was never going to leave. Oh, and not to mention another day with the incredibly new-founded Awkward Duncan.

…oh, Jesus, I really do sound like a bitch, don't I?

Heather furiously stood up and exclaimed, "Whatever!"

She stomped out towards the limo, but not until she turned around and yelled out, "Really smart move voting out your most clever teammate. Great."

She angrily opened the door, and sat down in the car with her arms crossed, like a bratty child.

Her anger almost offset the feeling I had now. Almost.

I walked back to the trailers, freshened up, and sat in my bunk. It was nine o'clock. Everybody was going to fall asleep at about…ten, I suppose. At that time, I would go to that green patch of grass in the middle of the woods (I had no better name for it), and hopefully Duncan would follow me there as well. I had some concerns at this point.

I spent the hour reviewing the song that Trent wrote for me, still feeling terrible. I checked the time. It was about nine-fifty. I guess I'll leave now. I closed my journal back up, and ran towards the secret place hurriedly.

Once there, Duncan was already leaning against the log. He looked up to see me, smiled, and said, "Why, hello."

I sat down next to him and said, "Hi."

"Heather was this close to voting you off today." Duncan explained. "I noticed her like, sneaking around, whispering to other people, until I finally found out she was trying to get you off. She got a few votes toward you, but I convinced DJ, Harold and LeShawna to vote otherwise…"

I looked at him, and hugged him. "Thank you."

Even though the guilt still lingered, it was nice to know that somebody loved you here in this hell-hole, and wanted to keep you here – even though this was the suckiest place to have ever come into existence. The real reason they wanted to keep you in Hell on Earth was because they didn't want you to leave them. How charming.

"Eh, it's no problem." Duncan shrugged.

I leaned my head against his chest, looking up through the trees at the moon.

"It's a full moon," I pointed out, "it's pretty."

"Yeah," he looked up, too, and said, "surely."

It was silent for about three minutes until he said, "…I have to tell you something."

I froze. Oh, Jesus motherfucking Christ. Now I really didn't want to know what the hell bothered him. It seemed bad. Very, very bad. But I had to stay calm, cool, collected, and – most importantly – strong.

"Mm-hm?" I asked, looking up into his eyes. They were a dazzling sea green. I usually never noticed somebody's eyes, but…wow.

"…do you promise not to make a huge deal out of it?" he asked.

"Surely." I nodded and flashed him a sweet smile.

He paused for a moment. Whatever the hell he was going to tell me, he better spit it out soon. Then, he said it. Short, sweet, and pretty much to the point.

"I'm absolutely in love with you." He admitted. I was somewhat shocked. It was a good kind of shock, however. It was more like a pleasant surprise. It's amazing how feelings can grow so damn serious in only five freaking days. It's like love at first sight – even though we've known each other for the whole summer.

"I'm in love with you, too." I smiled.

"I didn't really know how the fuck to say it without sounding awkward," he told me, "because 'being loved' and 'being in love' sound so alike, but they're two totally different feelings."

I thought about it briefly. It was true. Loving someone was a nice feeling, the feeling anyone has when they're in a relationship – two-week middle school relationship, a high-school romance, even when the neighboring girls scream about how the "cute" Jonas Brothers are performing at the Wachovia Center. Yet, falling in love was something you'd feel when you're absolutely sure you'll want to be with someone for a very long time, if not forever. Like something inside of you was telling you that you're destined to be together.

"Yeah, I know what you're saying." I agreed. "They're two different feelings. Yet they're commonly confused with one another. You never see the difference between the two until you experience them yourself."

"Exactly." He nodded.

We continued staring up at the moon, and he began playing with my hair. I usually hated people playing with my hair (especially the bimbos who tried to braid it), but I'll let this slide.

I sat up after a moment, and said, "Jesus, I hated today's challenge."

"Western flicks suck nowadays." Duncan sighed. "They were only good…well, never."

"Plus, it was scorching. And, I was roped by _Beth_. Out of all people, it had to be Beth." I complained.

"Oh my God." Duncan said, mortified. "I hate her. I hate her. I HATE HER."

"You hardly even know her." I said, yet shrugged it off. "Um, do carry on."

"In my opinion, she seems that she thinks she's popular just because she's friends with Lindsay," Duncan sighed. "Being friends with a girl with fewer brains than a kumquat is far from popular."

"I know," I said. Oh, no, I found myself ranting again. "I mean, I'll be nice to her, simply out of pity. She's nice; I have to give her that. However, she's a little too trusting. Did you see her with Heather's alliance last year?"

"Ooh yeah." Duncan nodded. "Beth was so gullible before the Heather thing. She believed everything, and just about anyone could easily take advantage of her."

"Now she won't take shit from anybody." I laughed.

It got quiet. I remembered how much he loves me, how much I love him, and I took notice – once again – of his dazzling eyes. I quickly kissed him just to ease the tension, and he responded by kissing me back, harder and longer. I put my hands on his upper back, and he put his hands on my lower back – almost at my ass, but not quite.

Tonight, we decided to put a twist on things – I was on top, he was on bottom. It's not sex. It's strictly a make-out session.

His hand gradually moved itself to where it was on top of my ass. Truthfully, if it was with somebody I was with that I wasn't so madly in love with; I'd probably go ape-shit, firmly grasp his hand, and force it down on my back. But Duncan was the most amazing person I've ever been with. I'd do anything for him, and I'm 200% sure he'd do the same. And I'm proud to say I deny all accusations of exaggeration.

He then sat up, and said, "Holy shit, I feel like we've been here forever. My watch doesn't light up; can you get time on your iPod?"

I checked the iPod Extras section, and changed the Time Zone from "Philadelphia" to "Toronto."

I widened my eyes at the time. "It's one o'clock."

"Holy _shit_." He exclaimed. "If we don't fall asleep now, we better in thirty minutes if we want to get up early for tomorrow."

I shrugged, and said in a flirty tone, "Time flies when you're having fun, I guess."

"I just can't believe we were just…kissing and talking for over four hours." Duncan said, obviously still surprised.

I sat in his lap, put my arms on his shoulders, and repeated, "Like I said: Time flies when you're having fun, hon."

We began kissing again – our lips constantly crushing against each other – until finally, we fell asleep.

**A/N: …never saw that coming, hm? XD**


	20. Ch20: Almost

**a/n: "Yes, I'm watching TDI…heh…stupid bastards don't know I'm WATCHING THEM." :] xD**

I woke up, my face nuzzled in Duncan's chest, and his arm on my back. His watch wasn't beeping. I guess I was used to waking up at this time about now.

However, it seemed different. Not the events that happened previously, but…the mood of the scenery.

That's when I realized it was sunny out. My eyes widened in horror – we overslept. I checked Duncan's watch. It was six-fifteen. I nudged him, while saying (somewhat quietly), "Wake up, wake up, WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

His eyes fluttered open, and he noticed the sun shining – he was faster realizing it than me.

"Holy fuck." He sat up. "We overslept. Dammit. I thought I had my watch set?!"

I checked his watch. It was in good working order. "Maybe the sound was muffled?"

"Oh shit. Oh shit." He kept repeating it for a minute until he thought of his plan. "We have to get back…somehow. Now. Move, move, move!"

Jokingly, I made a salute and exclaimed, "Yes, Lieutenant Duncan!"

I snuck off to the bathroom, and Duncan went back to the cabins. I checked my hair. Oooh, it was all messy and knotty. I checked under the sink, where most people keep their shampoo and such. Thankfully, Lindsay kept one of her multiple brushes here.

"Thank God," I said under my breath, and began to brush my hair. It unknotted pretty easily. My make-up could pass.

I exited the bathroom, to four people with their arms crossed – Harold, Beth, LeShawna and Justin.

"Hey, people…" I tried to keep the mood optimistic. "What's…up…here…"

"Where were you for the last fifteen minutes?" Justin asked. "I know, it's our day off, but _still_. Suspicions are rising."

We have a day off? First one in forever. "I was in the bathroom."

"Who stays in the bathroom for fifteen minutes?" Harold looked around, wondering.

I walked up to him and said, "I'm like a rum chocolate soufflé. If I don't get the proper warm-up, I will not rise."

"…that makes sense." Beth shrugged. "Lots of people take a long time to get ready, right?"

Everyone nodded in agreement. LeShawna laughed. "God almighty knows I take my share of minutes…ha ha ha!"

I chuckled nervously, and left the crowd. They all turned after me as I awkwardly hurried away.

"Wait, where are you going?" Justin called after.

"Thanks for the chat, but I lost my necklace…I was looking for it a moment ago." I called back. "Duncan might have it; he's usually the one finding it…heh heh…see you later!"

I jogged up and knocked on the guy's trailer door, and put the side of my face against it. I said this quietly so nobody outside could hear, but I was still loud enough to be audible to Duncan.

"Let me in, babe, I need to talk to you…!" I called for him.

He opened the door, and said, "Why, it's Gwen. Welcome to my humble abode."

I laughed and stepped inside. "We're so lucky we're surrounded by dumbasses."

"Why?" he asked.

"Everyone's suspicious. Again." I sighed. "Once you think you're done, and the charade is over, they fall for it once again and everything's back to where it began."

"We're pretty damn lucky." he replied. "Having no brains at all is what the show looks for."

"…but we're smart." I countered him.

"Yes, we are. They just chose us because we're interesting stereotypes."

"So we're most likely to win." I smiled. "That's a nice thought."

"Hell yes." He grinned back.

I put my head on his shoulder, and began running my forefingers up and down his chest.

He then put his right hand on my back. His fingers slid under my shirt. He was simply wearing an undershirt, his usual jeans that stopped right above the ankle, with no shoes.

"I should get, like, a shirt or something on…" he thought.

"No, for now, its fine…" I protested. "It's okay."

"I should." He nodded, and got up. He reached into his duffel bag, and looked through the shirts.

"I might wear my Lidge jersey," he wondered. "I dunno…or the white shirt I wrote 'Smashing Pumpkins' all over…heh."

I smiled. The 'Smashing Pumpkins' one seemed funny. I was excited to see it.

"Smashing Pumpkins one. Put it on." I demanded.

"Oh, fine!" he rolled his eyes, and ripped it out of his duffel bag. It was small. "Damn it. It shrunk. Still…it's cool."

It was white, with the words "SMASHING PUMPKINS" written in messy writing. Pumpkins were drawn everywhere.

He held it up, looked and me, "It can probably fit you. Take it."

I beamed with happiness. I put it over my shirt, and grinned. "I FUCKING LOVE IT. Thank you so much!"

He laughed, "Wow, I didn't know you thought it was so awesome."

"Well, it's cool! How can you deny that, babe?" I held both his hands and smiled.

He put on his Lidge jersey instead, and sat back down where he previously was.

I pulled him toward me and began kissing him. His hands escaped my grip, and he wrapped his arms securely around my waist, mostly in some sort of protection. I somehow managed to hitch my legs around his waist, and I put my hands on his lower back.

I tore off his jersey, and then his undershirt. He then undid the corsets on my shirt, and threw both my shirt and my Smashing Pumpkins tee to the floor. I then relieved Duncan of his jeans, and he did the same with my skirt. (It was getting hella intense.)

So, as you've found out, I was in nothing but this lacy black bra with matching underwear, and he simply wore white boxers.

Once he started picking at my underwear, he stopped kissing me, and said, "Oh, shit."

I looked at him with innocent, silently pleading eyes. "What?"

"I want to," he sighed, "but I can't."

I knew exactly what he was talking about (hopefully, you should too, or this will make absolutely no sense to you). I was in total agreement.

I sighed and held him closer towards me. "Same here."

He leaned down, and looked inside his duffel bag. "Dammit. Seriously, this can't happen…"

He smirked and said, "…at least for now."

I smiled and whispered (for no reason whatsoever), "M-hm. For now."

I continued kissing him until somebody began pounding on the flimsy door. Any harder, and it would definitely break.

"Duncan, unlock this goddamn door!!" Justin exclaimed.

I quickly put my Smashing Pumpkins shirt on, and then my skirt. I put my old shirt over my arm.

Before Duncan unlocked the door, I smiled, "Well that was a fun time."

He grinned too, laughed, and said, "It was. Have fun with your shirt."

"Fuck yes, I will!" I exclaimed.

I finished putting on my shoes, and waved goodbye as I left.

Justin was staring after me. I saw him turn towards Duncan and ask, "Did you find her necklace?"

"What? – Oh, yeah, that. Yeah, I did." He stuttered.

"Good."

I grinned on my way out. That was the farthest I've gotten with anyone. And, even _thinking_ about how we were going to go even farther – fantastic. I almost squealed in delight, right there. However, I controlled myself, went to my room, and put my old shirt back in my bag.

**a/n: I would've written it – but there are no condoms/birth control in the middle of nowhere, so I'm afraid it would be impossible. xD**


	21. Ch21: Out of Luck

**A/N: I wasn't focused while writing any of this…I was watching Game 3 of the World Series…(I'm rooting for Philly, if you must know)**

For my day off, I spent it listening to music and watching a few movies.

For Duncan's day off, he spent it by looking frantically for condoms.

I didn't hear anyone yell "YES!" over the course of the day, so, I'm guessing he was unsuccessful in finding something. Blah.

Around dinner, I left, and walked with Duncan towards the Mess Hall.

"…didn't find anything?" I asked, keeping the subject of conversation a mystery to anyone overhearing.

"Oh, yeah. I found something." He nodded.

My face lit up. Yes! Yes! YES!

"Just a shitload of nothing." Duncan sighed.

I sighed. How dare he crush my dreams like that. He continued, "We _have_ to find one."

"I doubt I'll find or have one, but I'll check." I promised.

"Good." He nodded. We then entered the Mess Hall. They were serving overcooked waffle fries and undercooked hot dogs.

I grabbed a tray, and walked up to Chef. "I'll skip on the raw hot dogs, and take the burnt fries."

He stuck his spoon in the huge pile of fries, put it on my plate, and growled, "Here."

I shrugged and thanked him. I went to the soda fountain, got some root beer, and sat down.

I turned. Duncan didn't have anything.

"Did Chef change his mind about feeding you?" I asked. It may seem like I was joking – but I wasn't.

"No, I'm not hungry at all - just thirsty. 'Scuse me." He leaned over, and poured Coke into his glass. "Besides, I'm going to go look some more."

I smiled. "You're dedicated, hm?"

"Yes, I am." He grinned back. I looked down at the mountain of fries on my tray. "I'll end up throwing these out anyway. No problem."

"Okay," he nodded. "I'm going to go look."

He waved goodbye, and sipped his Coke as he left. He better find a damned condom, or I was going to lose it. Hormones mixed with temptation? That can be a bitch.

I quickly consumed the fries that were slightly squishy, tossed out the burnt ones, and ran to join him. When I walked inside the trailer, he was ripping mattresses and suitcases apart screaming, "Dammit! Where the fuck can one be?!"

I knelt by him, scrambling. I spotted his duffel bag and asked, "Can I look through?"

"Sure, whatever." He shrugged, searching the floor.

I totally discombobulated the whole duffel bag, until I checked a zippered compartment. I smiled, and held a Trojan condom up. I was absolutely ecstatic. Temptation has been defeated.

"Found one! Yay for me!" I exclaimed.

Duncan turned, grabbed it, and looked at it as if he couldn't believe it. He put it in his pocket, turned to me, and said, "Tonight. That green patch thing. Okay?"

I smiled. I agreed with him no matter what. I leaned over the mess of sheets, and began to kiss him passionately. However, my angle was way too extreme, and I fell over on top of him. He put one hand on each side of my waist, laughed, and we resumed kissing.

I looked at the floor. "We should clean this shit up."

"We should." Duncan nodded. "Remember. _Tonight_."

I nodded. "Why the fuck would I ever forget?"

He smiled, clearly trusting me. We spent a good five minutes cleaning up everything from the floor, and afterwards, fell back onto his bunk.

"Well, that was…not fun." I simply said.

That's when I realized – I was in a freaking rush to have sex. I felt like a slut. I've become the one thing I _don't_ want to be. I felt dirty, almost immoral. But, like every other "good" Catholic, I flipped God off by shrugging off the bad feeling.

"No, it was not." He exhaled in exhaustion. Then, he changed the subject. Let me warn you, it's the most random thing I've ever heard: "You know how Trent and Courtney are slightly over-protective?"

"Yeah, Trent always thought he was never good enough." I told Duncan.

"Well, he's not." He put his arm around me. "_Any_hoo, do you think they have creepy-ass calendars and charts? Like, recording our every move? It came to me last night, and it's been bothering me."

"Maybe Courtney." I guessed. "Trent's not smart enough to make a chart."

Duncan laughed, and began mocking Courtney's charts. "10:06 AM: He flirted with me. I smacked him. 10:09 AM: He flirted with me. I smacked him. 10:10 AM: He insulted me. I insulted him back…"

"10:11 AM: My bipolarity kicked in, and I realized he was my dream prince." I mumbled, slightly jealous of the fact _she_ dated Duncan.

Duncan commented, "You're so damn right…she is bipolar. One minute, she hates you, and the next minute, she loves everything about you. It was so freaking confusing. I could _not_ take it. Once I got the best opportunity to dump her, I did. I just cannot stand her."

"_She_ watches too many opposites-attract scenarios." I added. "_Grease?_ Impossible. Especially the part where she's like, 'Oh yeah, I _just_ found out we were moving to the United States!' Like, isn't that a big move? Something you plan months and months ahead of time? And then, her whole big change was shit, too. Like, nobody but a horny douche like John Travolta would fall for that. Seriously. She's a goodie-goodie the one day, and a hooker the next. They must have had something lead up to that, but no. No, that will just not work for me. That was ridiculous. RIDICULOUS."

"…you have very detailed rants." Duncan added after a moment of quiet. "Like, they're good. Yet long. And detailed. And they represent exactly what she thinks life is like. Proceed."

"Thank you," I nodded, and said, "_Titanic_ sucked, too. I did not cry when Jack died. His character was a douche…"

Duncan smiled at my usage of his favorite word.

"…and fairly uninteresting. Would a fancy girl like Rose get together with a peasant like Jack? The parents would be all over her ass. They wouldn't leave her alone for a minute, and she would not be sneaky or daring enough to get away with Jack. Sure, she can flip off her Dad. Lifting a finger. How daring.

He applauded. "Gwens, you would make a fairly decent critic."

I playfully bowed. "Thank you, Duncan; I did have a lovely performance."

"Quite." He held me tighter.

It was hushed, and the atmosphere made it feel like we were deciding what the hell to say next. That thought scared me. If we were meant for each other, we'd always know what to say. However, we were probably just…I dunno, simply enjoying the fact we're alone together, without any interruption. At least that's what I was doing.

"I really needed a day off with you," Duncan admitted, "we usually just spend nights alone in the woods, sort of fearing the possibility of a camera, or something like that. But, today, we had the whole fucking day to ourselves, without any concerns. It was nice."

"I know," I agreed fully. "As much as I love the dark, it's superb to kiss you in the sunlight. Heh heh."

Superb. I had to use that more often.

"Yeah. Speaking of which…" After that, he leaned over and kissed me. I put my hands on his shoulders, and he put his hands on my waist.

After two minutes of kissing, we were aware that people will start piling in here any minute after dinner. We stopped, and decided to talk about our personal lives, friends, et cetera.

"Okay, I have three best friends." I explained. "There's Marilyn, Pixie Corpse, and Reaper. Plus, I have my other friends, but they're my main clique."

Duncan's attention was drawn to Pixie. "Did you just say her name was _Pixie Corpse_?"

"Nickname." I pointed out.

"Yeah, I get that…but Pixie – um…Pixie Corpse is a unique name." he stuttered. I decided to let it slide. Whatever.

"And I have a single mother and a thirteen-year-old brother named Alex." I finished.

"My closest friends are Vic, Ryan, Matt, and Shaun. I hang out with Shaun's girlfriend, Lexi, but I only text her, since she can be a bitch." He said. "And I have my police-chief parents, my two older brothers, and my little sister. My two older brothers are Tom and George, and they're 21-year-old twins. Tom is a dedicated guy in business, while George is really laid-back and evil…reminds me of myself."

"So you like George, not Tom?" I asked.

"Yeah…well, Tom is okay." Duncan explained. "The one I don't like is my sister, Amber, and she's fourteen. She's a prissy prom queen…she just got into high school, and God knows it won't be easy her and I sharing the same freaking air. As if the same house wasn't bad enough, hm?"

"I thought I had it bad with Alex." I laughed. "He's an ass, but at least he and I can share air harmoniously…"

"Shush." He snapped. "Anyhoo, she dates this douchebag, Calvin Smithson, who the freshmen girls all drool over. Oh, and he just has to eat at our house every night. Great, huh? So I just usually hang out with Ryan, Matt, Shaun, and Vic at a restaurant or something…well, you can't really count Shaun. He sits there with his phone texting Lexi until someone drops his phone in his Coke."

"It breaks every time?" I wondered.

"Thank God that Shaun buys cheap-ass Tracfones." Duncan laughed, and I laughed with him. His friends seemed amazingly fun. I would love spending a day with them.

"Mine aren't as interesting as yours." I smiled. "They're cool. I love them with no end, but we usually spend our wild and crazy evenings talking about music, people, each other…just, basic stuff."

"Mine talk about sports, the school assholes, concerts, all that jazz." Duncan said.

"We usually hang out in Marilyn's basement, like in _That 70's Show_." I giggled. "It's a decent place, and Marilyn's parents don't know or care who the hell is in their house, as long as nothing's stolen."

"Great parents." He laughed. We then heard the doorknob shake wildly. Duncan tore his arm off of me, and we sat very casually, and we appeared to be innocent best friends. Harold entered the trailer, looked around, and said, "You two guys spend too much time together."

"Are you just jealous that I have a girl drooling over me?" Duncan (jokingly…or else we'd be screwed) put his arm around me, and held me so close, I could feel his heart beat. I blushed, and laughed with him.

"No," Harold protested, "because I have LeShawna."

Duncan began arguing with him. "No you don't, because she dumped your ass at Playa des Losers."

"It's called 'a bump in the road', it's not a break-up," Harold objected. "At least my girlfriend doesn't dump me for money that she ended up losing."

Now, Duncan was furious. He did _not_ like being reminded of that, especially by someone like Harold. As Duncan stood up to most likely rip his head off, Harold dashed out the door, scared shitless.

"He was smart to run." Duncan said as he sat back down.

I grinned, and replied, "Indeed he was."

I then checked the time on my iPod. It was seven o'clock. Dinner ends at 6:45. We were lucky that only Harold came in, and didn't suspect anything.

"It's seven." I told him. "Fifteen minutes after dinner let out."

"Jesus, and nobody tried to get in?" he asked.

"Nyuh-uh." I shook my head. "I'm concerned somebody's going to get in."

"Yeah." Duncan nodded. He looked at me and said simply, "It's only two hours. I think we can survive."

I flirtatiously (yet desperately) whined, "Not all of us."

He laughed, "Aw, yes you can."

I was defeated. I sighed, "Fine, I'll see you in two hours, hon."

I kissed him goodbye, and left the trailer. I was still in love. I was in motherfucking LOVE. I was absolutely swooning as soon as I closed the trailer door.

I walked over to my trailer, humming a simple tune, and once I plopped down onto my bunk, I picked up the book I was previously assigned for summer reading (Shakespeare…how stupid), and read until about eight o'clock.

Everyone piled into the trailer.

"Today's been a relief," Beth sighed, "but tomorrow's going to be torture."

I stared outside my crappy window. No, it would not be torture. What was going to happen tonight would most likely prove the fact Duncan may be "the one". Sure, it's only been a few days, but, I felt something inside – a gut feeling, per say – that he was perfect for me. And he was. I felt absolutely stupid for not realizing it before I wasted my time with Trent. He was a decent fellow – very sweet, creative, mysterious, and artistic. But, he wasn't very daring, and he seemed like he'd be an extremely popular guy back at home. This will sound prejudice…but he'd spend time with popular cliques. The ones I've spent my whole life hating and avoiding. Hating them forever, and suddenly loving them would just seem weird, and morally wrong when it came to my other friends. That was also a factor in the breakup I never, ever wanted to bring up. It would feel unfair to Trent, coming out and saying, "The real reason I don't like you is because of your stupid little friends."

"Well, you're probably going to sleep in tomorrow after today." I pointed out. "Everybody's worked their hearts out."

"Yeah, especially you." LeShawna grinned. "Duncan has seriously screwed up, losing that nose-stud thing…I hear they're expensive."

Good excuse, Duncan. Good excuse. "Yeah, they are. We ended up finding it on his floor, though. Happy endings."

"Who found it?" Lindsay asked.

"I did." I explained. I was bragging in my lie. Oopsies, too late now.

"Good for you, girl." LeShawna offered a high-five.

I high-fived her back. It was nice to know that I was also, thankfully, maintaining the trust of my peers and friends.

After a good fifteen minutes, everybody was fast asleep. Beth was snoring – due to her breathing through her over-salivation (she was the human vomit inducer). I was absolutely excited. I may pass out from over-excitement any moment. Instead, I somehow made my way towards Duncan in the woods.

**A/N: Woo, cliffhangers. Yeah…the game is still going on, and I'm writing a Vladimir Tod fanfic, yes, its decided. xD More details later, but – HOLY FUCK NO. Sorry – Yanks won. Fuck them. Fuck their blue-and-white. Go Philadelphia. ;]**


	22. Ch22: Excitement

**a/n: …I would have updated sooner, but I was in Washington DC. Everything has Obama's face on it there. 0.0 It's almost as bad as the Rocky Balboa fad at the Art Museum back home.**

I was extremely, extremely anxious. I forgot everything a girl usually remembers. I forgot a bra, and I forgot to apply mascara. To add to my horrible forgetfulness, I got my right and left shoe mixed up. I just realized that after I took a few steps out of the trailer.

I looked like a mess, but I don't care. I was too excited. Besides, it was pitch black out.

As I got up to the grassy patch, my heart was beating too fast to be average. I was slightly nervous – first time, afraid that things were going a little too fast between us to manage. Yet, like I said before – I was absolutely sure we were perfect for each other.

He was already there, standing against a tree. He looked at my shoes and said, "Your shoes are wrong. Just letting you know."

I laughed and said, "I know."

I sat down and leaned on the log, when he said, "Longest two hours ever."

It wasn't the longest two hours ever, in my opinion. I've went through worse. Just to agree with him, I simply nodded, "Bah, I know."

"Yeah, I just passed the time by—" he began speaking, until I heard a loud beep. Duncan dug his iPod out from his pocket, and he looked at it.

"Gah." He sighed. "Vic IM's me too much…"

I stared at him, bewildered, until I exclaimed, "You have the Internet?!"

Duncan looked at his iPod Touch and said, "Yup. I'm picking the signal up from…Chris's trailer? I dunno, but it's so freaking fast…"

"You're so damn lucky!" I told him. "I don't have Internet on my iPod or anything…just my phone, but they confiscated them at the start of this show."

"Yeah." He nodded. He began punching in his reply to Vic, and finally hit send.

"What did you tell him?" I inquired.

"I told him to stop messaging me, because I'm with you." He answered. I couldn't help but smile.

"Aw, I'm special." I laughed. I then added, "So you told him?"

"Yeah, but I told him to keep it to himself." He explained. "As long as nobody _here_ knows, we're fine, but I just wanted to be absolutely sure."

"Okay." I nodded. Then it hit me. Why the fuck were we keeping this whole thing private? "Do you remember why we're keeping it secret in the first place?"

"Uh-huh. You don't want to look desperate, and I don't want Courtney to kill me." He reminded me. I nodded. It feels like it's been forever since the breakup, but in reality, it's only been a few days.

"I see." I said. I then took notice of him turning to my wrist, and he snapped a black one. I smiled mischievously as he dug in his back pocket for the condom.

He ripped it out, and looked at it. His expression then grew somewhat regretful as he shouted, "Aw, shit, no!"

I sat up and exclaimed, "What?!"

"It's punctured! The damn thing is punctured!" he exclaimed.

I was absolutely exasperated with this situation. "Dammit! I was so fucking excited!!"

He stood up and tossed the condom into the woods. "Damn it! Damn it!

I stood up behind him. I had my hands behind my back, looking absolutely innocent. "Calm down, hon. It's fine."

He sighed. In an extremely, extremely, _extremely_ desperate attempt to be sexy, I said simply, "Just close your eyes."

He sighed again, and closed his eyes tight, as instructed.

"And just relax, 'kay?" I continued.

He shrugged. I walked in front of him, his eyes still closed. I stood close to him, and immediately began kissing him, my hands on his upper waist. He responded quickly – since he knew that's exactly what I was going to do – and put his hands around my waist. After a moment or two of kissing, his hand ran down my back and back up under my shirt. His hand reached my upper back, when he teased, "Wow, whore, you're not even wearing a bra."

In quite a flirtatious tone, I responded, "But I'm your whore, aren't I?"

He smiled, his diamond-white teeth glistening in the moonlight. "Yeah, I guess you are."

We continued kissing – his hand still under my shirt, up where my bra usually was - until my foot slipped, and we both slammed against the ground laughing.

"Who the hell trips over their own feet?" he managed the laugh out, "Especially when they're standing still?"

"I do." I told him, and then said, "You know what I love about us?"

"No, what is it?" he sat up, and I leaned my head against his chest. He started running his fingers through my hair and I stared up, glancing between the moon and his eyes.

"I absolutely love the fact that we're dating, and we have that atmosphere when we see each other," I explained, "yet we also have a best friend sort of atmosphere, alone or not. You know what I'm saying?"

He thought about it for a short moment, and commented, "Yeah, it's great once you actually think about it. Most of the stupid little relationships I've had in the past weren't nearly as fun or decent as this. It was just – if you had one thing in common, you were perfect for each other, you dated, made out, broke up, and the cycle starts all over again. I am absolutely tired of it, and I think the cycle is broken since I'm dating you."

I smiled and hugged him. Even though my voice was muffled, I told him, "That was the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

"No problem," he nodded. I then wiped my forehead. It was extremely humid out. Duncan then took the white shirt underneath his black T-shirt off, and left it on the grass.

I looked at his shirt, with the unusual skull thing. "What's on your shirt, anyway?"

He looked down at the logo on his T-Shirt and said, "It was the logo of the Death Wishes."

I tilted my head in wonderment. "Who are they?"

He grinned. "That's George's garage band from 2003. They never got anywhere. They only played two original songs, along with a few songs from _Incesticide_ and _Pisces Iscariot_."

"Aw," I said, "I can't even find their albums anymore. Why didn't they get famous nineties shit, like _Nevermind_ and _Mellon Collie_?"

"My brother's a freak, what else can I say?" he asked. "Anyway, he got T-Shirts made, and when they broke up, he gave his shirt to me."

I, once again, wiped my forehead. I turned to him and asked, "Do you want to go steal Coke from the kitchen or something?"

He smiled mischievously. "Totally."

"Jesus, now you talking about your brother's band wants me to listen to _Incesticide_." I sighed. "After we take the sodas, I'm going to go get my iPod speakers."

He nodded, and we left for the mess hall.


	23. Ch23: The Soda Theives

**a/n: Writing ch.22 got me into Incesticide again…bah.**

We came up to the back of the back of the tent, and entered through a flap in the back. The whole place was deserted and dark. Duncan turned towards me, still grinning, and explained, "So, this is going to be easy. Let's just make it fast; we don't know Chef's tactics."

I nodded, and we both crawled Army-style to the fridge. When we made it up to the fridge, acne'd with magnets and Post-it notes. Most of them were bad recipes – he was planning to put freaking salt in Rice Krispies treats – to be used later in the show. I gagged, and looked towards Duncan. He held out his hand and asked, "Do you have ponytail holders?"

I nodded, and took a few bands I kept on my wrist. I put them in his hand, and he counted them. He put three on the floor, and handed the remainder back.

He then grasped the long-sleeved shirt he previously took off, and tied the openings shut. It was a shirt-turned-sack. He quickly grabbed all of the soda and dropped it into the shirt-sack-thing. He then slammed the fridge door shut, winked, and just as we stood up, Chef shouted from the distance, "Who's there?!"

We froze – we were horrified - but I spotted a nearby flap in the tent. I poked my head out, looked around, and saw a clear coast. I grabbed his wrist behind me, and pulled him out with me.

I whispered, "Let's get the hell out of here!" and we began running into the distance.

He leaned towards my ear and whispered back, "What about your music?"

"Fuck it, I'm getting out of here!" I said back. We continued running, when halfway into the woods, the shirt-sack broke, and a few bottles of soda dropped onto the grass.

"Ah, shit." Duncan hissed, and tied it back up as I picked up the bottles.

"Um…don't drink these." I said in an awkward tone.

"We can shoot them off," Duncan suggested. "Like when baseball players shoot champagne they win a division or something...that would be cool…"

"Ooh, yeah. That would be fun." I smiled. I looked up, and he was just about done tying it back up. "We have to keep moving, come on."

I grabbed his wrist, and we started running again. We finally made it to the spot, and sat down, leaning against the log. We were breathing heavily, and our hearts were beating extremely fast. He put the sack to his right.

"That was actually a pretty smart idea of tying up the shirt." I complimented him, still trying to catch my breath.

"Eh, it just came to me." He shrugged, and took a root beer out. "What kind of soda do you want?"

"Um, Coke I guess." I answered, and he grabbed a bottle and handed it to me. He then held his bottle up and proclaimed, "To rebels!"

I laughed, and held my bottle up with his. "To rebels."

I opened the bottle, expecting a waterfall of cola dripping over my hand and onto the grass. Surprisingly, it opened with simply the sound of some escaping air. I tasted it, and it wasn't even flat. It must have settled while me and Duncan were trying to catch our breath. The same thing happened with his.

We drank the sodas, threw the empty containers inside the log. After some mindless conversation, we fell asleep.

I woke up to Duncan's irritating watch again; thank God it worked this time. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and looked at the sack of (now warm) soda to Duncan's right – who, to add, looked absolutely tired.

"What do we do with the remaining soda?" I yawned. "There's a shitload of it left."

"Meh, I'll put it in my duffel bag or something." He said, and stood up. "We have to get to whatever hell we're facing today. Elimination, you know."

I sighed, and stood up. "Damn it. I hate elimination challenges…they're always the most stupid."

"True." He nodded, and we began walking back to the trailers when he asked, "What do you think the challenge is?"

"I dunno. Like I said before, it's something life-threatening and stupid." I sang. When I exited the woods, I turned and kissed him g'bye, and walked towards the trailer. I climbed in through the window, and fell into bed. Each meeting was more amazing than the last, but every one left me swooning.

I was looking up at the ceiling when I heard Lindsay's voice: "Gwen?"

I sat up, and responded, "What's up?"

"Where were you?" she asked, tilting her head, clearly quizzical.

"I was in the bathroom." I quickly lied.

"…oh." She nodded, and put her head back on the pillow.

I heard some sheets rustle, and Izzy said, "I woke up in the middle of the night, and you didn't look to be there."

That's when I felt the stares on me, waiting for my response to the accusation.

"Okay, you've caught me." I sighed, ready to spill all. However, that's when I caught myself and the shit I was telling everyone – I couldn't tell them about the meetings that happened in the middle of the night. No. "…I stole soda from the kitchen, but I left it somewhere around the set. I forget where. Sorry."

"Aw, dang it!" Beth exclaimed. "Gwen, I would have killed for a soda!"

"Sorry, I would have gotten my good friend Beth a soda if I could." Knowing that nobody could see me, I rolled my eyes. Beth and I are _not_ buddy-buddy. Being on the same team for about ten days last season does not equal friendship. Some people just do not get that.

I heard her giggle in happiness. "Hee hee! Okay, good!"

"Okay then." I shrugged, and got up again to grab my sketchbook. I started flipping through the pages – art assignments, drawings, and notes covered the pages – until I found an empty page. Bored out of my mind, I began to sketch whatever came to my mind first. I found myself sketching Duncan from memory.

"Oh," I whispered to myself, "I'm infatuated with him, aren't I?"

"With _who_?!" Izzy asked, clearly excited about me being in love with whoever. Usually, I would expect Lindsay to be found in this position, but I'm guessing she doesn't even know the definition of the word "infatuated".

Without thinking, I exclaimed, "COREY MONEITH!"

I looked down at her, staring up at me with curious eyes, as she said, "Oh, okay! My friends talk about him all the time, pictures all over their lockers, stuff like that…but that boy is mildly attractive, if I do say so myself…"

She continued talking for five minutes until she laughed, "…yeah, he's cool, well, ESCOPE'S GOIN' BACK TO SLUMBERING!"

I laughed awkwardly, and said, "Yeah, you do that…"

I continued drawing, perfecting every nicety. To me, drawing someone badly was an insult – to your skill and to the subject, and since I was drawing my boyfriend, I felt I had to make it the best damned drawing ever. After an hour – when everybody began to get dressed and such – I finished nothing but his shoes. I closed the book, and put it in my suitcase.

For my outfit, I put on a "Where the Wild Things Are" shirt – it was white with a yellow crown, with the name "MAX" scrawled underneath. I also wore skinny jeans ripped at the knees, and yellow Converse sneakers. I had a black Nirvana hoodie with yellow text to wear in case it was frigid, but it was actually quite warm. I threw it back in my bag.

I ran outside the door, and sat on the bench, impatient to see Duncan. I wasn't going to tell Duncan about my picture. Not unless I wanted to scare him shitless.

I sat there, staring up at the citrus-colored sky as the sun peeked over the black trees. It was mesmerizingly beautiful, like something from a fancy calendar.

I looked at it until somebody's hands covered my eyes. I heard Duncan's voice flirtatiously ask, "Guess who?"

I smiled, gently grabbed his wrists, lowered them, turned my head up and said sweetly, "Hi, hon."

"Like your shirt." He commented. Somebody was in a cheery mood.

"Like your shoes." I said back. I've always loved Converse for some weird reason. They're just so classic, yet still amazing.

"I like yours as well." He noted my shoes – to remind you, they were the same kind, only a bright lemon color.

I smiled and said in a girlish tone, "Thank you."

We heard a door open, and I released my grip on his wrists. The guys piled out, and shortly after, the girls did too. DJ was still nowhere to be found.

After a moment, he resurfaced, licking his lips. Me and Duncan still eyed him suspiciously.

"Why the fuck is he never around?" he whispered in my ear.

"No idea," I raised an eyebrow while DJ proceeded to lick his fingertips. "I think he's sneaking off to the Mess Hall for food."

"…but then Chef will have to cook it for him, or at least _see_ DJ cook it himself." Duncan pointed out. "This is confusing."

Then, Chris comes in with a police outfit and a club (or a 'beating stick', as Bennie Jean would call it). He held it behind his back and approached the group. I stood up, just to be at eye level with Satan himself, and Duncan hopped over the bench I was previously sitting at to stand beside me.

I leaned towards Duncan and whispered, "What is this, a stripping challenge?"

I looked up to see him smirk. I elbowed him in the gut. He recoiled a bit in minor pain, yet he quickly recovered and said, "I'm just going to pretend that you did _not_ just do that."

I smiled, and turned back towards Chris. "As you may already know, today's challenge is…"

I whispered under my breath repeatedly, "Please no strippers, please no strippers…!"

"…prison themed." He announced. I grinned in relief, yet my face turned bright red. I'm so perverted, I think of stripper themed movies (as known as porno's) before cop movies? What the hell was wrong with me?

I looked up at Duncan again. He was smiling again. It took me a while to figure it out until – prison themed. Of course.

"Well, at least I know one of us will exceed our standards." Harold looked in Duncan's direction. In return, Duncan snorted.

"Dude, shut the fuck up…" He said back. "Seriously, you're further in the closet than Edward Cullen."

I awkwardly turned towards Harold – knowing any insult to him would spark LeShawna's rage, and possibly annihilate our friendship – and added, "That is pretty far in the closet…"

Harold harrumphed, and turned back towards Chris.

"…ANYway…" he continued, "Your first challenge will start at Studio Four. C'mon, let's a-go!"

As everybody was leaving to go to the studio, Beth was looking around asking, "Wait, what about breakfast?"

Lindsay turned, held her arms up signaling, "Eh, I don't know", and said, "Beth, who cares about breakfast? It's actually a good thing…I'm on the Johannburg Diet."

Beth looked nonplused, and asked, "Who is Johannburg? She's no celebrity."

"Alice Johannburg is a famed and widely exclaimed dietician. She's helped all the big celebrities with their diets – Britney Spears, Jessica Simpson…"

I stared at her in disbelief. First of all, it's _acclaimed_. Second, Spears and Simpson are always bagged on for their weights. Unlike what most people thought, Lindsay was not perfect. People always see her perfect body, weight, style, bust, et cetera, and always think of her as the perfect girl, the perfect role model. A little angel. However, if they took her out of the Victoria Secret catalog and gave her the California SAT Test, everybody would take their compliments back. Immediately.

Well, long story short, if you want to make a porn site, Lindsay's your gal. If you want her to design and maintain the site, then she will fail. Miserably.

And that, boys and girls, is why I want anybody but Lindsay to win. Your life cannot depend on simply your looks…and same goes for Justin.

As Beth shrugged at Lindsay's explanation of the Johannburg Diet, we all walked as a group towards the Studio Four.

**A/N: If there REALLY is a dietician in the world named Alice Johannburg, I'm going to throw a laughing fit o.o guaranteed.**


	24. Ch24: Prison Break

**A/N: Oh my fucking GOD. This chapter is SO DAMN GROSS. XO I usually refrain from writing disgusting shit like this, but I decided to give it a shot…I made myself sick…o.e**

We came up to this studio, with two cages inside. There were two tables, each with an empty bowl, disgusting foods and a tablecloth. To add to this lovely place, a sitting area was placed a few yards away from the tables where Chris can watch us kill ourselves in comfort.

The tablecloths were different colors – one red, one green – most likely representing the teams. I walked over to the green one, leaned against it, and looked around. Chris soon followed and said, "Your first challenge is simple. One team will make a disgusting mixture of gross foods. You will then choose someone from the opposite team to eat it. If that person throws up before the person chosen to represent your own team, they lose, and you win."

I nodded. We were choosing Lindsay. For example, late one night, I walked into the bathroom to find her vomit all over the floor. Apparently, earlier that evening, she puked because LeShawna's gum was too minty. This was going to be an easy win.

The team huddled together and we began to discuss who to put in.

"Lindsay." I nodded. "She has the weakest stomach I've ever seen."

"Yeah," Duncan agreed. "Lindsay would do just fine."

We looked over to the rest of the team while glancing at our target. They nodded.

The huddle split and we all stood next to each other, some of us with our hands behind our backs. Shorty after, the Grips' huddle also ended.

"Okay," Chris nodded, "Grips, who did you choose?"

"We choose DJ." Justin answered, looking towards the big marshmallow.

I did, too. He looked fine with the position. As he climbed into the cage, LeShawna exclaimed, "You can do this, DJ!"

"And the Gaffers choose…?" Chris waited for us to finish his statement.

"Lindsay." Duncan smirked in her direction, imagining her downfall as he spoke. I could simply tell.

She gulped, and Duncan turned back towards the table.

"Okay, teams." Chris declared, "Now you may start making your…er, dishes."

I immediately walked over, and small bowl of grass. More specifically, it was simply plain sod you rolled out on your lawn, pulled out and put in this bowl. As I was about to dump it into the main mixture, I felt something crawling up my leg. I froze, and slowly looked down.

Holy shit. It was a _fucking roach_. My jaw dropped – its disgusting exoskeleton scurrying up my right leg made me shake with fear, and disgust. Instead of going insane, swiping that thing clear off my leg, I put the edge of the bowl up in front of it. The insect avoided it at first, until it realized it had no choice but to go inside. It scampered inside, and I hastily tipped the contents of the bowl into the mixture. I moved out of the way of my teammates, when Harold opened an opaque, large container to the right of the mixture. He peeked inside, and immediately realized what it was.

Octopus. It was a damned octopus. It looked cold – cold, slimy, and lifeless.

"Cool." Harold smiled at the sight of the odd creature inside the can. He grabbed a large wooden spoon next to the bowl, and began playing with the creature, lifting its tentacles, still staring in awe. "You know, as a final test of strength in Korea, they eat these alive, to see if their tentacles are stronger than their jaw…"

I was about to vomit all over the table. This was disgusting. Why the hell would you know – or even _want_ to know – about wrestling with octopi? In your _mouth_? This was horrifying.

"We don't care about Koreans wrestling octopi with their teeth, thank you very much!" Duncan exclaimed. I looked over at him, smiling. He rescued me from the grossness that was Harold's useless knowledge. Duncan, you are an angel sent from heaven above.

Harold poured the octopi in the bowl, and began mashing it with the spoon. I felt the puke rising up my throat. As disgusting as it sounds, I swear there was going to be an eruption of vomit any minute. I swallowed it down, and hastily rushed out the studio doors, not before shouting, "Excuse me…!"

As I ran out the door, I heard Duncan turn to Harold and exclaim, "Nice going, nerdling!"

I sprinted to the bathroom, and sat on the counter. I didn't want to force the vomit out, I just needed to go somewhere where I know I wouldn't throw up – or, if I did, I would be covered.

I looked in the mirror. My face was drained to a snow-white color, and my cheeks were almost green in color. I simply sat on the sink counter, staring up at the ceiling. There were multiple stains from leaks, and a cobweb at the corner. All the while, I was thinking of someway to – as crazy as it may sound – repay Duncan.

It's an odd feeling. I feel he's done so much for me. He's broken me out of this shell I used to have. Duncan is the freaking love of my life. I used to be so damn shy around people – more specifically, guys I liked – and due to the fact he's also my best friend, it lifted my awkwardness in romantic relationships. Although it was quite romantic, there was always some sort of best-friend feel. It was natural. That's one of the major reasons I love him.

I was on the counter, staring up at the ceiling, conjuring up rhymes for some stupid poem I found myself mentally jotting down in my head. I wasn't going to give it to him – that would be awkwardly stupid. I _know_ he doesn't like Valentine's Day shit. Poems, chocolates, heart-shaped cards and anything with Cupid disgusted him – and I. However, poems appealed to me. They were dainty and nice. I won't release this one. Maybe if I ever finish it, maybe I'll keep it to keep me company or something – or to laugh at in the near future.

My thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on the door. Duncan's voice asked, "Gwen?"

"Yeah?" I responded.

"…are you okay?" He asked. "You sort of…just left."

"Mm-hm." I called after and looked in the mirror. Some color returned to my face. My stomach still had a queasy feeling, yet it was lessened. I walked over to the door, and took a step outside. "Is Harold done smashing that fish?"

"They're about to eat the foo—er, creations." He corrected himself. I felt myself vomiting already. If simply making that shit caused me to get sick, what will I do if something eats it?

"I'm…I'm not going to watch it." I protested. "Seafood doesn't appeal to me…they're just slimy creatures that smell like sewage, and I usually run from that sort of thing. Besides, the sound of it going down their throat…ugh, nooo…"

"Ah." Duncan smiled while he nodded. Whether it was him finding my horror funny, or my description of the seafood hilarious, I dunno. "Do you want to wait outside of the studio while they puke themselves dead?"

I nodded "yes", and sat on the warm pavement outside of the studio. After a moment, I was brave enough to peek inside. All I saw was Lindsay's shaking hand dig into the octopus, a single blade of grass lying on what seemed to be its disembodied forehead. I also witnessed one of its uncrushed tentacles oozing across the spoon. I shrank back and turned to Duncan. I slid over, sat on Duncan's lap, and simply held him close.

"…want me to kick Harold's ass for freaking you out?" he offered.

I slowly nodded. "That would be nice."

"Like, physically kick his ass, or just, like, revenge? Like replacing his dandruff shampoo with root beer?" He asked.

"Either one will do." I told him.

"…I'll do both." He shrugged.

"Thanks, hon." I grinned and held him closer. If I could, I would have us making out immediately. IMMEDIATELY. However, we were in open space, and that – sadly – was out of the question.

"And it's over!" Chris's voice echoed through the studio. I climbed off of Duncan's lap and looked inside. There was puke all over Lindsay's cage, and it seemed to cascade onto the floor.

I shivered in disgust. I heard Duncan get up. He said, "Are you okay?"

I nodded. "I can manage."

I walked inside, Duncan trailing a few feet behind. Instantaneously, I heard the sound of Harold's rushing footsteps. His shoelaces were untied, and his feet were barely in his Osiris shoes. Once he got up to me, out of breath, he exclaimed, "I'm really, really, _really_ sorry!"

I backed up a smidge, and reassured him, "Don't worry…it's fine…"

"I really didn't know you octopus made you sick, and…aw, crap, I'm just sorry!" he kept apologizing. In reality, he wasn't apologizing to me. He was apologizing to Duncan for irking the shit out of him, so he won't kick his ass later.

I repeated my previous statement. "It's fine."

"…are you sure?" He asked. "I mean, I'm still really sorry…"

"Don't worry yourself over it. It's alright." I protested, and began walking towards the table. Everyone was celebrating the victory.

"Gwen, we won!" LeShawna exclaimed. I looked over to Lindsay's cage, the bowl dropped on the floor. A lone tentacle was sitting next to the bowl, along with the disgusting mixture spilled across the cage floor.

"Yeah, I saw." I added.

"Whoever added the cockroach is a genius." LeShawna said. "Without that, we would've been done."

I smiled. My roach saved the day. "That was me. It was crawling up my leg, so I put it in."

Suddenly, I began getting a swarm of cheers, just for putting one dirty little creature in a bowl.

"Okay, let's move onto the second challenge." Chris said. "Follow me out the back of the studio."

We all walked around the cages and around Lindsay's vomit, and followed Chris to the back.

There stood two laundry carts, filled with clothing. In front was an obstacle course.

"Okay," Chris began. "A famed way of escaping prison is through the laundry. One person will run through the course while the rest of the team is in the cart. The first team to win will have an advantage in the next challenge. You have one minute to decide who will push your cart."

We turned towards each other and began thinking. DJ immediately rose his hand and said, "I'll do it. I'm one of the stronger people, I can manage."

LeShawna shook her head. "Nyuh-uh. You did the challenge last time, we should give it to someone else."

Duncan shrugged, and said, "Then I'm pushing this thing."

"Can you go fast and get us there before the Grips?" LeShawna asked. "It's pretty damn hard."

"Look, if its not DJ, it's a choice between you, Harold, and Gwen." Duncan said. "Harold's not good at anything, Gwen's not all that strong, and you're not that fast."

LeShawna nodded, let out an "Eh", and climbed in the cart. We had forty-five seconds left.

"Try pushing the cart, see if you can first." Harold suggested.

Duncan strolled the cart around in a quick circle and said, "There."

"Okay, you can do it." Harold shrugged. "Good luck."

I then asked Duncan, "Duncan, do you have your pocketknife?"

"Why wouldn't I? What do you need it for?" he inquired.

"I want to cut a peephole from this laundry bag thing we're in." I whispered back. He then handed me the knife, folded up. I put my hand on the bag, made sure it _was_ the bag and not some jeans, and began slicing it open. It was big enough for me to fit my index finger through, but that was it. I folded the knife back up, and handed it back to Duncan. I started peeping through to the Grips.

What I saw cracked me up. They chose Owen to run. This, in my opinion, was pretty smart. Owen wasn't fast or strong, but he was extremely stout. If they chose anyone else, they'd die trying to push him – and four-hundred extra pounds.

"Who'd they choose?" DJ asked.

"Owen! They chose Owen!" I laughed.

"Oh, we're winning."

"So, have the runners been chosen?" Chris asked. Duncan and Owen nodded. Chris looked at Duncan, and then turned his head to Owen. He tried to keep from snickering.

"And…go!" Chris yelled, shooting the starting gun. Duncan began dashing through the course, and I was watching the Grips.

This is how the Grips progressed: Owen took seven steps, stopped, caught his breath, and resumed running. Seven steps, stop, continue, and repeat. Step, stop, run, repeat.

While Duncan was rushing through everything ever so swiftly, Owen was out of sight.

The ride was actually quite smooth, not many bumps – excluding when Duncan accidentally ran over a cone.

As we approached the finish line, I asked Duncan, "Can you see the prize?"

"Yeah, it's…" he was then stopped, staring in disbelief. "…it's a shovel."

"How cheap." I commented, as I watched our cart pass the white finish line.

We came to a quick, unexpected stop. Chris shot the gun again and said, "And we have a winner!"

As he announced that we won, and called the Grips to come to the finish line, we piled out of the cart.

"So…why the hell do we get a shovel?" Duncan asked.

Chris turned to the shovel, picked it up, looked at it, and threw it behind him. "That was the reward if the Grips won this challenge. It would've helped them in the tiebreaker. However, since you guys won both challenges, there is no need for one. You guys are safe from elimination! Congratulations."

We began celebrating, and I simply turned and hugged Duncan. He was trying to catch his breath from running.

"You were so damn awesome!" I complimented him.

"Ha, thank you." He laughed. He held me tighter, since this was all the time we would ever get until tonight.

He let go, when I decided I should, too. I still leaned up against him

The Grips then arrived, breathless at the scene.

"Unfortunately for you, Killer Grips," Chris announced, "you will have to eliminate one of your own tonight."

"Aw!" Beth exclaimed.

Izzy simply turned to Owen and said, "Pffft, you could've worked harder."

"But I tried so hard!" Owen whined.

"Well, not good enough." She said, turning her back towards him and walking ahead of the group.

Well, I know who's getting eliminated tonight.

**A/N: Sorry for the delay. I would've had this up this morning, but some asshole on WeeWorld hacked my whole computer! :O**


	25. Ch25: Secret Admirer

**A/N: BLAHH I'm suffering from Glee Obsession Disorder. D:**

**Puck Is My Homey xD**

I sat at dinner, staring at my empty plate. Instead of cooking, Chef said, "Eh, fuck it" and we got fried chicken from KFC instead. I don't like eating meat off of a bone – too primitive, in my opinion – so I previously scraped all of the meat off of the bone with a fork, and wrapped up the disgusting bone securely in a napkin. I ate it quite slowly, since the chicken got cold in the time I was stripping it off the bone – and it was dreadful.

I turned to Duncan, spinning his buffalo wing around and around between his fingers, sauce coating his fingertips. That was almost as disgusting.

"Can you stop? Please?" I asked.

He slowly put the meat back on the plate. I nodded, and looked at my drink. A Dr. Pepper with a ton of melted ice. Mouthwatering.

"Couldn't I have alternatively gotten something from Pizza Hut instead of KFC?" I asked the group. "Maybe not even a pizza; a salad would do."

LeShawna ripped the meat off of the bone with her teeth – which disgusted me further – and said, "Are you kidding, this chicken is amazing!"

Duncan tried to hold back laughter until I (_somewhat_ softly) elbowed him in his side.

"Ow…" he softly whimpered, hardly audible. "What the hell?"

I whispered back, "Be nice!!"

"Pssh, fine." He responded.

I grinned and asked, "So…what's up with you?"

"Not much – just won a whole challenge, came here, ate chicken, and that's it."

I leaned my left elbow on the table, supporting my head, and looked at him. I found myself gazing into his eyes – a very rich sea green, you can easily get lost in that color - and wearing a goofy, flirty smile. He simply leaned on the table, and smiled – not the stupid one I found myself sporting, but a natural, hot one.

"Come outside." I said quietly.

I got up, put my plate back, and announced, "G'bye, my loves, I'm gonna spend some time alone."

After a moment, I heard Duncan go, "Meh. Not hungry."

He dropped his plate in the busboy cart thing, and on his way out, saluted the room. "Later, bitches."

I stood to the right of the entry/exit to the Mess Hall. Once he left, I grabbed his closest wrist and dragged him behind the place. Once there, I began kissing him.

He stopped to say, "Goddamn, why the sudden kissing?"

"I dunno. Felt like it." I shrugged, and continued kissing him.

After a minute or two, the people inside of the Mess Hall spilled out, and walked towards the trailers.

"Dammit." Duncan muttered under his breath, and turned towards me. "Talk to you later, love. See ya."

I sighed. "G'day."

I walked towards the trailers, until something hit me. Dammit, I was tired of keeping the biggest chunk of my life at the moment to myself. I took a sharp turn towards the Confessional.

I stood outside the door, and took a deep breath. This was going to be tough to tell the whole world.

As my sweaty palm reached for the door, I heard Beth's voice coming out from inside.

"At first, I thought he was really loutish." I heard. "Then, I saw his sweeter side today! And then, I realized he's pretty cute. I think I like Duncan a lot."

I was standing there as my jaw dropped. Next, I began laughing. Loudly. I cracked up to the point I couldn't breathe. I leaned against the trailer, catching my breath.

"I don't think he'll ever go for me, though." She continued. No, Beth. Not even if you were the last living girl on the planet - he'll turn to necrophilia. "But, whatever! My mom always told me, with a pinch of determination, and a lot of kindness, you can win any guy over!"

Laughter escaped me again. I heard the chair in the trailer scrape against the flooring, and Beth exclaims, "Who's out there laughing?"

"Aw, shit." I muttered, and ran towards the trailers.

When I got there, I pounded on Duncan's door, trying to hold back laughter _still_, and called, "Duncan, let me in!"

The door opened, and Duncan said, "Hey, Gwens. What's up?"

I dragged him inside, locked the door, and sat down. Out of nowhere, I began laughing. He stared at me, perplexed, until I told him, "Dude…dude…this is hilarious…"

"What?" he asked, still having no idea what the hell was going on.

"Beth likes you." The words escaped off of my tongue. Duncan was mortified.

"HOLY SHIT NO." He exclaimed. "No, no, no! I mean, I know I'm hot a—"

"Incredibly." I added.

He paused, and continued, "I know I'm _incredibly_ hot and all, but – um, how can I put this nicely? – she's an ugly fuck."

I burst into laughter. Again. "That's the nicest you can put it?"

"Mm-hm." He nodded.

"Well, just don't talk to her, and I'm sure her feelings will blow over."

"I never talked to her once in my life."

I thought for a moment. I then said quietly, "She won't crush on you if you're not available."

After a moment he caught my drift and said even quieter, "Maybe…?"

"I really dunno." I shook my head. "I don't want Beth latched onto your arm the whole season, but I don't want Courtney to beat you to a puddle, either."

He nodded, then sighed, "Jesus, I dunno what the hell to do."

"She said she started liking you when you were somewhat nice." I recalled. "So…act like a dick."

"Not with you, though." He said quickly.

I sighed. "That's the reason she likes you. Apparently, she thought it was sweet when I got sick and how you hung out with me until I felt better?"

"I don't care. I'm not going to act like a total jackass just to prevent a wannabe from hanging off of my arm!" he exclaimed.

I grinned. How nice. I got up and simply hugged him. "That's sweet."

"Quite." He smiled.

The door was being gently knocked on, when Owen's voice sang, "Ding Dong!"

Duncan let go of me, sighed and unlocked the door.

Owen walked in, saw me simply standing there, and asked, "Gwen? Why are you in here?"

"Just to talk." I answered simply.

"Oh," he nodded and asked, "Do you feel better from earlier?"

"Yeah, I'm perfectly fine." I reassured him. I began walking out the door, waved goodbye (more specifically to Duncan) and sat outside. Of course, Beth rushed up.

"Gwen, do you know what Duncan likes?" she asked. I looked at her suspiciously, when she added, "Chris asked me, it's for a challenge."

I was about to exclaim, "BULLSHIT!" until I calmly responded, "He hates animals, people, and bright colors."

That was all true. And it was all stuff Beth loved. She looked dismayed. "Oh. What about…music? Yeah, what kind of music does he like?"

"He likes alternative rock." I said truthfully. "Like Nirvana, Escape the Fate, Smashing Pumpkins…and he hates the Jonas Brothers, Hole, and Miley Cyrus."

"…oh…" she said quietly, even more disappointed. "Well, I bet he likes something we can manage."

"We?" I asked, horrified. I _knew_ she liked him, but Jesus, she wasn't good at hiding it.

"I mean the production crew." She reassured me. "Sorry. See you later."

She then ran off into the trailer. Once I knew she was far away, I began laughing. So desperate, so young.


	26. Ch26: Crush Crushed

**A/N: Holy BuhJesus, Beth's crush was scary to write. :O**

It's about eight fifty-four, and I'm leaving to go into the forest. Yes, Izzy was earlier eliminated. Owen is extremely depressed and Beth is very thankful.

"Oh my God, thank goodness I'm safe!" she said earlier, right after elimination. She fell onto her bed.

"Why are you so thankful to still be in the competition?" I asked, anxious to see her answer. "Well, besides the million."

"I've met someone special." She said honestly. "I've just realized how cute he is!"

Everyone's attention was caught. LeShawna demanded, "Who?!"

Beth blushed. "I'm not going to tell. Everyone's going to laugh."

Lindsay poked her head down from her top bunk. "C'mon, at least spill to me!"

Beth leaned up, and whispered his name in her ear. Her mouth gaped open and said, "Ew…you and him don't mesh."

LeShawna harrumphed and said sarcastically, "Fine. Don't tell, it's alright. Really."

At that point in time, I was forever in debt to Lindsay. Most likely, she changed Beth's mind. All will be well.

Unfortunately, Beth exclaimed, "Love will find a way, Lindsay! LOVE WILL FIND A WAY."

I sighed and said, "This is ridiculous. See you."

I walked to Duncan's trailer, knocked, talked, left, came back, faked sleeping, and here we are again.

I snuck out and began walking to the spot, and once there, I saw Duncan. I stomped my foot – somewhat lightly, not really, though – in irritation.

"Dammit!" I exclaimed. "You're still earlier than me."

He laughed and got up. "Aw, you're jealous. Any more news on Beth?"

"Nope." I sighed. "She says 'love will find a way' between you two."

He paused for a moment and shivered. _He shivered._ The thought of being in a three-foot radius with the girl frightened him.

"It's okay." I reassured him. "I told her you hate everything she likes, so maybe some more persuasion will just do the trick."

"Thanks." He nodded, and took out his iPod. He began swiping, poking, and typing on it frantically.

"What are you doing?" I asked, tilting my head in a curious fashion.

"Making my 'favorites' playlist." He smiled mischievously. "Consisting of Slipknot, I Set My Friends on Fire, and more of your beloved screamo artists."

I smiled and ruffled his Mohawk. "You're delectably evil."

He smiled in return. "I get that a lot."

"So…Operation 'Make Sure Beth Hates the Shit out of You' starts tomorrow, right?" I asked.

It looked like he finished his playlist as he answered, "Hell yeah" and stuffed his iPod back in his pocket. "I'll get that girl eliminated if I have to."

He put his arm around me, and I nuzzled a bit into his chest – the weather was suddenly a bit frigid. "You're so determined. It's sort of funny."

"Thanks, I guess." He shrugged, sighed, and looked up to the moon. "This whole Beth situation is really bugging me…nonstop…"

I flirtatiously said, "Why worry about her when you have me?"

He grinned. "I really don't know."

I smiled, giggled a bit, and kissed him. He put his hand on my back, and kissed me back. The thought of Beth never came up in the time we kissed, and she most likely stayed out of Duncan's mind, too.

After a good amount of time, I sighed – I was freaking infatuated with him – and lied down to fall asleep. "Love you, g'night."

After thirty minutes, I still couldn't fall asleep. I didn't know why – I was in a heavenly setting, it was quiet, I was warm, everything was perfect. I sat up, and put my head on his chest. Better, yet I had the feeling we were being watched.

That feeling didn't leave for a while, until I got so spooked I looked all around for any sign of life.

None. None at all. Except for Beth with a flower creeping near the boy's cabin.

"Beth," I called. I heard her yelp in surprise. She held the flower behind her back and chuckled nervously.

"Oh, heh…hi, Gwen." She tried to seem normal.

"What do you have behind your back there?" I asked, pretending not to know her little secret.

"Nothing! Why would you say that?" She exclaimed.

I sighed. This pretending was preposterous. "Okay, I know everything. I know you like Duncan because you think he's all suddenly sweet. To me. You're giving him a flower and shit like that to try to get him under your spell. Sorry to break this to you, it's not going to work out."

She looked absolutely in shock. "It will! I just have to keep working on it."

I sighed. I had to shut this girl up. I had to tell her. "It's not going to work out because Duncan loves me. And I love him back. So believe me when I say _nothing_ is going to come between us."

She looked even more shocked. "Then why does _nobody_ else know?"

Her expression grew angry. "You're just making up lies so I can't get to him!"

"No!" I exclaimed. She was pushing me off the damned edge. "We're keeping it a secret so Courtney doesn't take his fucking head off!"

"Courtney's not here!" Beth retorted.

"But she is hanging out where the losers get booted to!" I pointed out. "If he gets eliminated, he's _dead_."

She huffed in anger. "He's going to face her at one point!"

"Yeah, at a point where he has people to back him up!" I said back. I found myself calming down when I growled, "Just stay away from him. It'll only lead to your little heart being shattered in the future."

I walked away, feeling guilty about my bitch-fest. Until I decided it was for the best. If the sun comes out tomorrow and people know of me and Duncan being together – Beth's going to wake up on a Japanese fishing boat.


	27. Ch27: So Sick

**A/N: Sorry for the long long long wait…damned viruses fuck up your computer really badly. XD**

I woke up, laid across Duncan's torso, absolutely tired. I yawned, "Is today a reward challenge?"

"Mm-hm." He mumbled back.

"Well, at least we can slack off without being voted out." I shrugged, and sat up. A few of the bones that stiffened while I was asleep loosened with a 'snap' sound, and I stretched my arms and yawned.

"We should get up and get going." He sat up, and groaned. "I'm so fucking tired."

"Can we hide out and skip today's challenge?" I asked, leaning my head against his chest.

He pondered over it for a minute, when he decided, "Sounds good. But where?"

I bit my lip, thinking about where the hell to hide. The woods would be expected of us. It had to be a building. Somewhere that people went all the time, _unless_ it was during a challenge. Perfect.

"We'll go to the laundry room." I told him.

He smiled. "Nice. But if we're caught? The team will hate us, we're off, and we're going back to the states without a fucking cent."

I faked a cough and wheezed out, "We feel sick."

I then fell over his chest, faking coughs and exclaiming, "Blargh, I'm sick…soo sick…"

He grinned, finding my faking humorous. "Are you _really_ going to do that later?"

I sat up. "Well, yeah, but…better…"

"Good." He nodded. "Because if you continue sucking that bad, we're pretty much screwed."

"I know." I replied. I stood up, let out my hand, and pulled him up. "We should get back there and start faking."

I took four steps until he put his arm around me. We continued walking, until we were a foot or two from where the woods ended. He let go, faked a cough, and we parted ways. I grinned after him, and wrapped my arms around myself, starting to cough.

I walked inside the girls trailer, lied down, and began coughing wildly. Sheets rumpled, and many people yawned at the sudden wake-up call.

"Gwen, are you alright?" LeShawna asked, and yawned again.

"No—" I began, yet I was interrupted by a sneeze. "No…I'm…(_cough)_…sick."

"In the summer?" she asked.

Beth said in a suspicious tone, "Yeah! Flu season starts next month!"

"Not in Mexico…(cough)…I went there a few months ago…" I lied, since I couldn't even afford a trip to the Jersey shore. "I dunno, maybe there was some germ or something I caught…" I sneezed again.

I sat up, and pulled off quite a good stunt – I fell off my bunk. I hissed in pain. "I can't even function my freaking legs right!"

I faked a struggle to get up, and limped towards the door.

"Damn," LeShawna looked at me, concerned. "You can't compete today."

"No, no!" I protested. "I got to help you guys."

"You'll be no use," LeShawna said. "It's a reward challenge – you don't _have_ to win this."

"Okay."

I hobbled out the door for breakfast. I was fucking starving. I turned towards the guys' cabin. Duncan walked out, a blanket wrapped around him. He seemed to be faking chills. Nice touch.

I limped towards him, and yelled loudly (with some coughs in between), "You got sick too?!"

LeShawna stared. "Oh my God, it's probably contagious."

"We're not going in this challenge." Duncan shivered. "It's impossible to compete without collapsing or vomiting or sneezing."

"I'm just...going to tell Chris." I held my stomach, pretending to gag.

Duncan sighed. "We can't compete today at _all_."

We quickened our pace towards the Mess Hall, trying not to smile, and we ran up to Chris. We both fabricated our symptoms, and Chris believed us and let us go, not suspicious of anything. I grinned at our success, and we went off towards the laundry room.

I rushed inside, sat on the washer, and grinned as Duncan shut the door. Once he turned, smiling and laughing, I leaped into his arms.

"That was _awesome!_" I exclaimed. "I didn't think we'd actually get away with this!"

"Well, we did. Somehow, someway…" his voice got quieter as he continued rambling. His voice rose back to normal volume when he said, "But we did."

After he let me down, he sat on the washer. I sat on his lap, and began kissing. I buried my fingers deep in his scalp, ruffling his Mohawk every now and then. Realization then hit – I was fucking besotted. Even though I was in a dirty, diminutive laundry room where its only light was a scorching light bulb on a string hanging from the ceiling, I was with _him_. Honestly, that little known fact made this shithouse better than Disneyland – no, better than the Jack Skellington kiosk _in_ Disneyland. That meant a lot.

After a few minutes, he stopped kissing me and looked towards the door. He looked somewhat distracted, but I didn't give a fuck – I gently began kissing the part of the face that was right before his ear, yet right after the cheek. It was a desperate attempt at being sexy, yet turned out looking stupid.

"Aw, shit." He said, the color drained out of his face. "I think I heard the doorknob move."

I hopped off his lap. "It's probably the wind."

I opened the door. I saw nobody, and felt a cold rush of air on my skin. I poked my head outside the doorway and looked around. Nobody was hiding, either. It was absolutely desolate.

"No one's there. It's fine." I showed him. I shut the door, walked back over, sat on his lap, hitched my legs around his waist, and snaked my miniscule fingers around the spikes on his choker-thing. "Gah, stop worrying about everyone else. There's nobody here but you and me."

He grinned, clearly pleased. "Good."

He started kissing me again, when I gently pushed away. He looked somewhat befuddled at the sudden cease, until I took my t-shirt off. As I was at it, I slid his shirt off as well.

He grinned. "You never settle for _just_ kissing, do you?"

I just shook my head "no" and continued kissing him once again. He was pretty much right. For a moment, that made me feel like somewhat of a whore (I probably am by this point, right?) but I ignored the feeling, and surely it went away.

After I was bored of the constant kissing, I stopped and looked up at the cheap clock that hung on the wall. The challenge has been going on for a few hours. Normally, it should be over.

"Goddammit!" I muttered. "The whole challenge is probably over, or _almost_ over…we should get back to the trailers."

He turned towards the clock and sighed before saying, "Damn…um, I'll see you after the challenge is over."

I kissed him quickly and said, "See you."

He got off the washer, and I followed. He opened the door, let me out first (how courteous), and closed the door behind us. I almost smacked my forehead in stupidity – we should've looked out first, but, to my relief, nobody was out here anyway.

I walked back the girls' trailer, and sat on my bunk, scribbling details about my day inside my journal. After I finished, and even dated tomorrow's entry beforehand, I put it in my suitcase. I hopped back onto my bed and began collecting my thoughts – sounds Hindu-y, but it was calming and passed time.

It also made me think why I joined this show, even when I knew (or thought) that it was going to be some slut-fest like "Jersey Shore".

I summarized it down to the money – but I could get that same money entering, like, academic competitions, right? Like spelling bees and shit? I mean, it would be easier and appeal to me more.

I thought it over for a minute, until I remembered my dreaded summer job. I revised my original theory and summarized it down to this – _I hated making Chips on a Stick._

That's right. Believe it or not, there's actually carnie food that still exists – and entertains people to no end. Pretty much everything is served on a stick – filet mignon and gourmet restaurants, Reese's candies at a holiday party, even pickles in Lancaster – but nothing compared to the "famous" Chips on a Stick at the shore.

Last year, I stayed with my elderly aunt down the shore, just to get away from the city. While I was at it, I decided to get myself a job down there – pass some time for the summer, I guess. None of the places appealed to me – the greasy pizza stores, the Stewart's Root Beer Shop that crawls with crying children trying to scoop the ice cream out of their floats all disgusted me. My last resort?

Chips on a Stick. Basically, it's where you cut up a potato, put it on a stick, deep fry it, cover it in flavored powder, and sha-zaam. You've got Chips on a Stick (however, they were soft…more like cylindrical French fries on a stick). It was a ridiculous job – serving this shit to people exclaiming, "How original!" and "Why didn't anyone think of this before?" left and right. The best part (for the tourists) was that the food was _ridiculously cheap!_ Which led to a lower pay for me.

The thought made me cringe. I held my pillow tightly. If it weren't for this shithouse, I'd be sprinkling artificially flavored sour-cream-and-chives powder on potatoes.

My thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. "Gwen, it's Chris."

"Come in." I called. He walked in and asked, "The producers demand to know if you're feeling better."

"Much." I answered.

"Okay, that's good." He nodded. "Dinner has been rescheduled; it's an hour earlier today."

"Oh, okay."

"Yeah, so…get well."

He then left, but not before I heard something drop before he shut the door. I got up, and looked down. He dropped his wallet.

In this situation, a saint would open the door and call out, "Sir, I'm afraid you've dropped your wallet!"

…let's just say I'm not a saint. I sat back up on my bunk and began searching the wallet. He had twenty bucks, his license, and condoms.

_Yes_.

I stole one, and threw the wallet back on the ground. The reason why Chris carried around such items on a television set in which underage kids that were nine years younger than him didn't matter now.

I spent the remaining ten minutes I had to myself wondering how to let Duncan find it. That would be fucking awkward just handing it to him. I ultimately decided to go inside the guy's cabin and sneak it in his shoe or something while he wasn't looking.

I simply fell back on my bed and grinned. Only one thought flew through my skull – _I was fucking ecstatic._


	28. Ch28: A Small Salad

**A/N: The delay was caused by two viruses – one from a porn site and a spyware company (go figure). I'm so fucking sorry. XD**

_Coincidence._

That's the word that I was constantly thinking of as I learned that today's theme was "hospital" – when Duncan and I were "sick".

Honestly, I couldn't think of any hospital movies. Only hospital dramas on TV came to mind.

I got dinner, which was obviously canned meat, or maybe rotten cranberry sauce—I could see the outline of the ridges from the tin can in the meat itself (gross). I poked it with my fork, and it jiggled – it was like freaking gelatin made with chopped celery (or, at least I _hope_ its celery), onions, and God-knows-which-meat.

Instead of…whatever _that_ was, my last resort was the piece of lettuce that Chef put out to make the meat look "fancy". I took my fork and knife, carefully picked up the meat and put it elsewhere. I then turned to Duncan, who was poking his food with his fork as well, with a mixed expression of disgust and curiosity.

"Does Chef still have those dressings out for salads?" I questioned.

"I guess so. Why?" he asked. Instead of answering, I went to the condiments table – they actually had straight-out-of-the-bottle-opened-this-afternoon dressing. I found the container labeled "CAESAR" and grabbed a spoon. I got a spoonful of dressing and put a dollop on the lettuce and smeared it into a thin coating.

I came back to the table with my "salad" and stared at it. So did everybody else nearby.

"…what are you eating?" Duncan asked.

I shrugged. "Eating a piece of Romaine coated in dressing is better than nothing, I guess."

After eating my miniature salad, I looked around. Nobody dared eat the meat, except for Owen and Beth – Justin and Lindsay gave Owen theirs, and he happily wolfed it down. Beth was eating her first bite.

"Not half bad." She shrugged, and began finishing it.

Duncan stared at her – terrified of what she just said – and said with a blank stare, "She _likes_ me. That's petrifying…"

"What?" DJ asked, surprised.

Duncan nodded before groaning and burying his face in his hands, exasperated. Being a kind individual, I patted his head. "It's not like if you break her heart, everybody's going to go apeshit. Nobody cares about Beth."

I looked back at her. The little bitch thinks she can get everything. It was starting to piss me off, mostly because she probably _will_ get everything. She's the William Hung of this competition – doing the worst one can possibly do and get everything. And she doesn't do _shit_ – all she does is sit around and try to make friends that are way out of her league. Little does she know that climbing the social ladder will _not_ get you a job unless you're pretty. And we all know that Beth is far from that. I found myself scowling at her.

Duncan sat back, sank into his chair and said, "Lindsay does. And she has an influence on Owen, and he has an influence on _everybody_. I have to get her to hate me without crushing the girl's heart…as much as I want to crush it myself."

I grinned. "Aw. You're back to your mean old self again."

"Shut up."

"Make me."

And he did – he "playfully" twisted my arm. I hissed, "Dammit!" before shaking my arm out.

After a short pause, he changed the subject: "So, how was your 'salad'?"

"Boring. Probably the most fattening thing I've ever eaten." I shrugged. He stared.

"How can one piece of lettuce and some fucking dressing be fattening?" he asked.

"It was _drenched_ in Caesar dressing, dipshit."

"Oh."

I stared at my plate. The meat was pushed off to the far edge of the plate, and a bit of dressing was there, too. I sighed and stood up to throw it out. "I'm going to the girls' trailer."

"This early?" Duncan asked, somewhat surprised.

I nodded. "Mm-hm."

He shrugged and turned back to poking his meat. I heard him murmur, "I think they used this shit to make _E.T._, but I'm still not sure…"

I turned back, smiling at the crack, when I saw DJ laugh.

Once I was outside, I sprinted to the guys' cabin and threw the condom I found earlier in the pocket of a pair of jeans in his duffel. I dashed back out and into the trailer, where I began listening to music, just waiting for people to start piling in.


	29. Ch29: Great Entertainment

**A/N: Writing in IM form doesn't appeal to me. I don't like writing like that, but whatever.**

**And gah! I'm writing an OC story, but is do you have to do anything special to write a story starring an original character? Just a-wondering. XD**

Feeling bored, I sat up and began digging through the cabinets of the room.

Let's see – chips, an old Nintendo 64 (how do you hold that shit, anyway?), and…_yes._

A television. I smiled, put it up next to Lindsay's jewelry box (a colossal son-of-a-bitch filled to the rim with pearls and gold). I plugged it in, crossing my fingers, worshipping for some picture to magically appear.

Some crazy miracle actually let that happen. Once I turned it on, an image appeared of a car crash and a caption that read: "CRASH ON BUSY HIGHWAY: 2 HOSPITALIZED".

"Yes! Finally, some _entertainment_!" I exclaimed, and began channel-surfing.

Nothing fascinating was on: it was mostly _Full House_, Disney shows and sports games…and _Jersey Shore_.

Ah, _Jersey Shore…_the most terrible tragedy on the east coast since 9/11.

…I must admit that was in poor taste, but…no, actually, that sums the show up quite right.

For those who are lucky enough to _not_ know what it's about, it's about douches and whores all living in one house (with a freaking hot tub on the roof)! That makes for great television, doesn't it? And the "smart" one gets pink-eye. _Pink-eye._ Seriously, the last time an average normal human being with a pulse shouldn't get pink-eye after age ten (in case you aren't aware, pink-eye happens when feces – aka, the nice word for shit – gets in your eyes).

To go along with the stories of Jessica Simpson hooking up with Billy Corgan (I'm ashamed of you, Billy. ASHAMED!), there are apparently widespread reports of people offended by the show. If it somehow makes it to Season Two, I'm going to throw something heavy at the television. Or Beth. Whichever is more annoying at the time.

I quickly turned MTV off and started watching washed-up sitcoms on TBS until _The Office_ finally came on.

I watched a bit of it until Duncan walked inside the trailer.

"Why leave so early?" he asked as he entered. As soon as he saw me staring endlessly at the television. "And _why_ do you have a TV?"

"Found it." I answered back plainly.

"Where?"

"Cabinet."

"Oh. Gets good picture for such a little thing."

"Totally."

I got up, leaned against the door (precautions, people!) and dragged him closer to me. "So what's up, dear?"

"Just checking on you." He grinned, and then added, "Change of plans."

His breath smelled of strong peppermint – smelled good. I looked at him, befuddled, and asked, "What do you mean?"

"You know that 'lake' at the bottom of that 'cliff'?"

"You mean that pool of water at the bottom of the steel-frame cliff?"

"Yeah, that. Meet me there at nine."

I nodded. "Pleasure."

He leaned in to kiss me – and surely I kissed him back – it was simply a little peck. As our lips slowly parted, I leaned in again, kissed him for about a second more than the last one lasted, and we soon found ourselves in full make-out mode.

Feeling daring, I began kissing him with a lot of tongue. Like I said before, I dared a little more and fished out the mint. I kept it in my cheek. After we stopped kissing, I could see the outline of his tongue searching his mouth.

He looked at me, smiling. "Where the hell's my Altoid?"

I smiled – knew what I was hiding. I bit down on the mint and revealed the candy between my teeth. He grinned and laughed, shaking his head.

"Wow," he laughed. I expected something like "you never stop" or a similar comment. Rather, he grinned, "That was _freaking hot_."

I snapped my mouth shut again and began sucking on the mint. "I'm glad you had fun, dear."

I then asked, "So why the change of nighttime scenery all of the sudden?"

He bit his lip. "I dunno. The woods got boring for me."

I nodded. "Um…should I come in a bathing suit or something? Like, are we swimming or something?"

He pondered over it for a while, until he smiled, "Whatever you want. _Preferably_ a bikini."

I playfully punched him in the arm. "Shut up."

He sarcastically waved his arms. "Ooh, I'm so scared."

I twisted his arm. He laughed yet kept saying, "Stop, stop, stop…"

I released my grip and he crossed his now-red arms. "Wow. You're not a pushover."

I shook my head. "Nyuh-uh."

I then turned my heads towards the door, which was being gently knocked on.

"Mr. Door? Open, please!!" Lindsay exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes. Until I realized suspicions will raise if Duncan and I are in the trailer, alone, for the umpteenth time.

I bit my lip and turned towards the window. I didn't want to shove him out a window, but I had no choice. I turned towards him and said, "I'm so fucking sorry to kick you out like this, but if we're caught for like, the millionth time for being alone, they're going to get suspicious. Is it possible if you go out the window?"

He shrugged. "Professional criminal. Remember? I climb out windows on a regular basis."

To keep Lindsay at the door, I said in a (randomly conjured up) Swedish accent, "Mister Door's a little busy right now! Just close your eyes and stay _right_ here."

"Okay!" she replied. My eyes frantically darted between Duncan, taking out the screen and hopping out the window perfectly and gracefully, and looking out the little peephole in the door. Lindsay had her eyes shut, smiling.

"No peeking!" I added. She giggled. I then ran towards the window as Duncan was sneaking out. I leaned out, got a hold of his sleeve, and pulled him back towards me.

"What?!" he demanded.

I bet he quickly regret that when I kissed him goodbye. When he stopped kissing me, I left a trail of kisses down his jaw line. He grinned and said, "I love you."

That melted me (in a good way, of course). I smiled, and resisted giggling like a twelve-year-old girl looking at pictures of Taylor Lautner. "I love you, too."

I replaced the screen, closed the window and opened up the door. I continued watching the T.V.

I cleared my throat and called, "Mr. Door's opened."

Lindsay opened the door and said, "Oh, thank goodness! I thought Mr. Door dazed off or something!"

I stared. This girl would be a delight on "Jaywalking".

"Yeah. He's a tired son of a bitch." I said facetiously.

"I _know_!" she exclaimed.

I rolled my eyes and began thinking about tonight. _Why_ the sudden change in location? I began thinking, until I finally understood.

_He found it._

I smiled, and started thinking about a lot of things. Like if I should tell him I'm a virgin. I never had a "Sex Ed lesson" from my friends – the Sex Ed I had in school was supposed to support pre-marital abstinence and look at sex as the dirtiest sin one could commit, unless you're married – then it's "the first step to the Miracle of Life". Plus, I didn't watch many shows that included sex – the closest I got was watching Family Guy with my brother. By force.

But, I did have a friend that I could go to for the questions. Bad thing is, I can't call her, and I have to use Duncan's iPod to talk to her…if she's online.

That friend was the one and only Michelle, the middle-school slut and the current high-school sex correspondent. I've known her for years – she's not Goth, so she wasn't part of my clique, but she's one of my closest friends. I needed to talk to her. I sprinted to the guys' cabin as fast as I could. I asked Duncan if I could see his iPod. He nodded, gave it to me, and I went online.

Thank God she was on.

I went on AIM, and our conversation commenced:

**ThatBlooHairedGirl:** MICHELLE!

**Monkey_Mayhem:** Ahhhh! GWEN how are you online

**Monkey_Mayhem: **Unless ur an IMPOSTER! *dramatic music plays*

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **wut? No!!!! I have a q

**Monkey_Mayhem: ***pats chair* y don't you take a seat ovr there

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **…*sits down* do guys like virgins

**Monkey_Mayhem: ***spittake* WHO IS IT GWEN?!

**ThatBlooHairedGirl**: just answer the goddamned question.

**Monkey_Mayhem: **fine yeah yeah they do

**Monkey_Mayhem: **but you'll bleed everywhere

**Monkey_Mayhem: **IT'LL BE LIKE A MASSACRE!!!!!

(I gulped.)

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **SHIT!!!!

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **theres gonna be blood in the goddamned pool SHIT

**Monkey_Mayhem: **if you used tampons u wont bleed tho

**Monkey_Mayhem: **if you dont then…..then girl your screwed :D

(I used them once for swimming lessons. I'm safe.)

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **yay im safe *hi5*

**Monkey_Mayhem: **Now who is it

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **I don't wanna tell

**Monkey_Mayhem: ***puppydog face* Can I haz Info?

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **FINE GUESS

**Monkey_Mayhem: **whoa whoa, CapsLock-y. Calm down…okay trent

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **o.0 NO

**Monkey_Mayhem: **cody

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **u suck at guessing

**Monkey_Mayhem: **yeah ur right. He'd cry for twenty minutes after its done…

**Monkey_Mayhem: **greenie?

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **who the fuck is that

**Monkey_Mayhem: **the guy with the shweet 'hawk, I dunno his name

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **ding ding ding XD

**Monkey_Mayhem: **u lucky duck

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **o.0

**Monkey_Mayhem: **he's hot

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: **…ty for complimentin my taste.

**Monkey_Mayhem: **donnnnt mention it. Well I g2g eat. Om nom nom. See ya

**ThatBlooHairedGirl: ***salutes* buh bye

**Monkey_Mayhem: **farewell young padowan. I hope you have a swell time after dawn, IF YOU KNOW WHAT IM SAYIN. ;D

_Monkey_Mayhem singed out._

I closed the window, but then I logged back on to see if the conversation was still up (sometimes if you close something and reopen it, that same pervy conversation is up for your boyfriend to see).

The sign-in screen only showed. I'm safe.

I handed the iPod back to Duncan. "Here you go."

"Thanks." He put it back in his pocket. We started talking, then kissed for a while. I then left. Thank God for Michelle's vast knowledge – it calmed my nerves and made me even more excited for tonight.


	30. Ch30: The Pool

**A/N: BAH the *big* moment, people!!!!**

I approached the pool wearing an old jacket from about 1995 – it was moss green on the outside and orange inside. It was totally ugly, yet it was comfy. I didn't wear a shirt underneath – when underwater, shirts stuck to your skin and were hard to get off. I also wore jean shorts that stopped about mid-thigh. Skinny jeans would be a pain in the ass to get off, too.

I wore a bikini underneath (as Duncan requested). I came up to the pool and looked inside. I took off my sneakers and sat on the ledge of the pool, dipping my feet in the water. It was illuminated by a pool light at the other side of the pool.

Out of the blue, a pair of hands shoved me into the water. I fell inside with a yelp. As I resurfaced, my hair was drenched, my jacket was soaked with water, and my jeans were so wet, they seemed like they were super-glued to my skin.

I turned around, my eyeliner and mascara totally smudged (yeah, maybe I should've worn waterproof makeup). Duncan was sitting on the side of the pool, laughing hysterically.

"You dick!" I shouted. I swam over in his direction and pulled him inside the pool.

"Oh shit!" he exclaimed, yet continued laughing. He resurfaced, still laughing. I wasn't laughing – well, I _was_ smiling at the site of him absolutely drenched.

"Ah, that was fun." he grinned.

"I guess." I smiled. I was still annoyed. But I was still excited. I didn't really know the name for this feeling.

He held my closer towards him. My pulse started racing. I leaned in to kiss him. He began kissing me back. He then leaned back, his hand gliding over the ledge to shut off the pool light.

This was getting _way_ too hot to handle.

I ruffled his Mohawk a bit, and he reached for the zipper on my jacket. He slipped my sleeves off my arms. He was already lacking a shirt, so I didn't have to really do anything.

My hand then glided to the top of his head, and I pulled him down underwater with me. That's where my hand then slithered down his chest and I took of his jeans as he stripped me off my shorts.

But what happens when you and your boyfriend can't hold your breath anymore and find yourselves absolutely _needing _air?

You find yourselves swimming violently up to the surface, and you start coughing and begging for breath.

"That wasn't a good idea…" I coughed, shaking my hair out of my eyes while my hands were busy covering my mouth.

"Yeah, that pretty much failed." He nodded in agreement.

After we caught our breath again, we continued kissing on top of the surface rather than below, until Chris's voice was heard in the distance.

"And the trap door goes here…I'll come down here after the ten foot fall…" I heard him say.

"Oh my God, we have to get the fuck out of here." I whispered, petrified.

"If Chris comes over here for…God knows what…we're dead. We're fucking dead." He said back.

I looked at the bottom of the pool. There lied his jeans, my shorts, and my ugly jacket.

I turned towards him and held up my index finger, motioning for him to wait.

I then took the deepest breath I could, and began swimming towards the bottom. I grabbed everything, and pushed off the pool bottom and back up towards the surface, breathing heavily as I rushed my jacket on and zipped it up.

After we were ready, Duncan grabbed my wrist and said, "Come _on_!!"

When we left the pool I shrieked, "My shoes! I need to get my shoes!"

"No time, let's get the fuck out of here!" he exclaimed, running faster.

"Ugh!" I exclaimed, yanked my wrist away, and grabbed my shoes. Honestly, it was hard to run, since the weight of my drenched outfit weighed me down.

Instead of going the usual path, I heard Duncan hiss, "Aw, fuck it" and go through the woods.

I followed. Leaves and twigs covered the bottoms of my feet. Finally, we reached our destination. I scraped the leaves and stuff off the bottoms of my feet on the log.

"Ew…ew…ew…ew…" I said repeatedly, with a disgusted look on my face. Duncan simply wiped his feet on the grass.

"Well, that was interesting." He said.

"Ah. Ah. I'm freezing, and wet, and gross…" I was almost in sobs. I look terrible, and I'm shivering, and there's probably grass all over me.

He then grabbed my arm again and pulled me closer to him – most likely to shut me up.

"Thank you," I said. I looked up at him and asked, "Why did you bring me to the pool, anyway?"

"I'll tell you later," he said. "G'night."

Before he could lay down I sat up and exclaimed, "Wait! Wait!"

He sat up and groaned, "What?"

I pointed to his wrist. "What about your watch?"

"Oh, _shit_."

"Dammit! Now I have to go back to the trailer all fucking wet unless we get some alarm or shit…"

"I'm going back for my watch."

"Be careful."

"Yeah, I will."

"I love you."

"Love you, too, babe."

He hopped up, shook off some grass. I waved after him, and he waved back.

I simply waited for a few minutes, until he came back with his watch. "Set."

I grinned. "Yay."

He sat down, put his hands behind his head, and sighed.

"_Please_ tell me why you brought me to the pool." I begged.

"If I do, you're going to be a nuisance about it." He sighed.

"No I promise I won't!" I begged, holding his arm. I pulled it from behind his head and wrapped it around my waist.

"Fine," he sighed. "I found a condom in my suitcase and I wanted to have sex with you there."

I resisted snapping my fingers and exclaimed, "I KNEW IT!" It was hard, yet I succeeded.

"Well, why not here?"

"That's exactly what I meant. Now you're going to beg and beg when this is probably the _worst_ place ever to get laid."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

"Well, how about the laundry room, like on top of the washer and dryer?"

"…that's actually kind of hot."

I grinned at my success. "When?"

He bit his lip, wondering. "Well it should be the night before the next aftermath."

"But—"

"Then we can stay up all night and sleep in all day. It's perfect."

"No, then I'll get all impatient."

"Exactly. It builds up excitement, I guess."

I didn't know what to say to that. It was totally stupid, yet logical at the same time.

"Okay, I guess…" I nodded slowly.

He then pulled me closer towards him. I laid my hand on his chest, and found myself relaxed.

"Duncan?" I asked, and looked up. He was already asleep.

I was about to ask him if anything was bothering him. For some reason, this relationship seemed like it less smooth sailing than it usually is.

Let's just hope it's a short, awkward phase.


	31. Ch31: Game Plan

**A/N: PLEASE tell me how you can correctly publish an OC story…I'm too lazy to find out for me-self…XD**

"Morning, sunshine." Duncan greeted me in a facetious tone.

I sat up, fluttering my eyelashes.I looked up at Duncan, who was smiling.

"Hey. What happened to your watch?" I asked.

"It rung, like, a minute ago." He told me. "It didn't wake you up, which is honestly a surprise."

"Ah." I sat up, stretched and fell back on his chest. "I don't _want_ to wake up."

"Well, me neither…" he said, "but frankly, I want to see what that trapdoor is about…and besides, today is an elimination challenge."

I grinned. "We have to get rid of Beth. Sabotage her, you know?"

"Yep." He nodded.

I began thinking. I bit my lip, wondering what we could blame her for. "…but how? She's too…er, nice."

"We can tell Justin his team would be more beautiful if she was off." Duncan suggested.

"And we _have_ to fuck up Lindsay and Beth's friendship."

"Hell, yeah. That's a must."

"Okay. So it's a go?"

"Yeah, it's a go."

We both got up and began walking towards the trailers, until he playfully shoved me against a tree and began kissing me.

After he stopped, I simply said, "Random…but nice."

He grinned. "Yeah, I do that a lot."

I took a step away from the tree and as I moved away from him, my fingers slid from his shoulders down to his wrists until I resumed walking.

"So," he recapped, "we're going to kick Beth's ass out of here?"

I nodded. "Correct."

"Cool."

And so we both snuck off to the trailers.

I began poking the bacon on my plate – or the burnt paper. I can't tell the difference.

Well, bacon was bacon. Instead of starving myself everyday, why not take a bite? I picked it up and placed the bacon between my teeth, trying to chew it. It was rock-solid.

I took it out of my mouth and set it on the plate. I'd rather eat the cold, leftover pizza from last night's challenge (that I missed). I began gnawing on the pizza, trying to down it.

It tasted okay. I ate the whole slice. I threw the plate into the trash. I came back to see Lindsay sneak her hand into Duncan's back pocket. I think I'm going to shank this girl…maybe I'll break a plate and use the pointiest piece. I clenched my teeth and dug my fingers into my own thighs in anger (not a smart move).

She grabbed his iPod and exclaimed, "Ooh! I love your iPod!"

Caught off guard, his eyes darted from his pocket to the iPod in Lindsay's hand. "Haven't you ever heard of _asking_?!"

"Well, _you_ take things without asking." She said simply, batting her eyelashes. However, I don't think she wasn't trying to be cute – or maybe I'm mistaken….hopefully not.

He bit his lip. "Good point, do whatever the hell you want with it."

She began searching through his iPod until something clearly caught his eyes. "I never knew Courtney liked Weezer?"

I bit my lip. Weezer was one of _my_ favorite bands. "Let me see that."

I walked up to him. He had a playlist labeled "gf". I blushed and grabbed it from her hands and looked at it as Duncan talked to Lindsay.

"I'm not dating her anymore." He said.

Her eyes widened. "Then who's your girlfriend?"

"Somebody from my neighborhood."

"And where do you live?"

"Camden."

"Who is she?"

"I'd rather not say."

"Why?"

"I don't want her to be the next Rachel Uchitel or something."

"Who?"

"Whatever."

I was still blushing. He really, really loved me. He got all my favorite songs right, as often as they change. I turned towards Duncan, smiling. "Your girlfriend is so fucking lucky to have someone like you."

He grinned. "And I'm lucky to have her."

Lindsay got closer to him, resting her hands on his shoulder. She then placed her head on her hands, her mouth right next to his ear. Yeah, I'm _really_ close to shanking her. "Aw, that is _so freaking cute!_"

"Yeah." He said, dragging the word out. He shifted away from her, and she almost fell onto the bench.

All of a sudden, the sound of a chainsaw overcame the whole tent. The color of everyone's face drained out.

All of the sudden, a static-ridden, creepy voice was heard. "Hello, I'd like to play a game…"

"Oh, _shiiiit._" Duncan murmured.

"Come to the theater…for your lives."

Everyone immediately shoved each other out of their way, for their "life".

Before the last four of us got out – LeShawna, Owen, Duncan and I (Duncan and I were just walking. LeShawna and Owen were just slow), Chris's average voice came over. "Dude…dude…" Chris was laughing hysterically.

"Dude, they _totally _fell for it. They totally _fell_ for that bullshit!" he laughed. I stood there, my arms crossed.

"That's just fucking hilarious." Chef's voice came over. Then he asked, "More caviar?"

"Ooh, yeah." Chris smiled. After a pause, he then said, "Wait…what the hell…they're not all there…_wait_. Shit. Shit…did we leave the PA system on?"

"Yeah, asshole." Duncan exclaimed, loud enough for Chris to here over the cameras.

"Oh…this is _awkward_." Chris said, his voice getting lower with each word. "Um, well, I'm gonna go now…ta-ta…"

I rolled my eyes and walked out the door.

Outside, the stage was sealed away by a curtain. After a moment or two, Chris's voice was heard to say, "Hey, guys, ready for tod—whoa…!"

He was standing on the top of a beam, and began stumbling. I covered my mouth with my hand, worried. As much as I hated Chris, if he died…well, that'd be terrible.

I heard Duncan mumbling, "Fall, fall, fall, fall…"

I playfully shoved him when he said, "Gwen, I just want his yacht."

"Oh." I nodded. Typical.

Chris then – as Duncan wished – _fell_.


	32. Ch32: Screaming

**A/N: Dude, a day after I wrote my "Jersey Shore" rant, an article showed up on Fancast saying it's the most offensive show ever. Creepy.**

I stared at the corpse, absolutely shocked. Realization then hit that I was only an arm's length away from a real body. Not the ones you see in crime dramas, but an honest-to-God stiff.

Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. I held Duncan's hand tightly, my fingers digging into his palm.

"Oh my God. Oh my God!" I exclaimed. I got closer to Duncan. I didn't care who saw. I was fucking scared.

"He's dead! He's _fucking dead!_" I screamed. Everyone screamed, except for Duncan, who was trying to calm me down. I turned to Duncan and said, "This place is a deathtrap. _We are going to die here_."

"Gwen, stop…" he said, trying to gently pry me off. "Seriously, what _if_?"

I looked up, and as I was about to say something, I heard Chris's voice say, "That was so hilarious!"

My eyes widened, and I turned around. Chris was standing up, brushing off the fake blood from his chest. Some blood got on his shirt, and he grimaced. He then shook the expression off his face and replaced it with a grin.

"Today's challenge is horror-themed, as you can tell…" he started. After that, I zoned out. The guy scares us all shitless and all he can do is stand around like it's a "no harm, no foul" thing?

What an inconsiderate dick.

"…so, each scream will be measured by the Scream Meter." He pointed up above his head – to what? I'm unsure. "One of you will be the Psycho Slasher Chainsaw Person from Hell…"

Duncan smiled.

"…and the rest of you will be his or her imperiled victims. You will _definitely_ scream, and that scream will be measured on the Scream Meter. Any questions?"

Beth raised her hand. "What if you can't scream?"

Chris looked around, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean.

"Like, I got in an accident at age four. I can't yell over a certain volume, or octave."

I looked at her. "Oh, please. You just screamed a few minutes ago."

Beth stared at me. "No, I didn't…"

I nodded. "Indeed, you _did_."

Beth rolled her eyes. "Well, at least _I _know the truth, unlike some people…"

As she walked away like a little bitch (which only works if you're pretty…so in reality, that failed for her), I turned to Lindsay.

"She is a total liar. Get her off as soon as possible," I told her. "It's a trust thing. If she's trying to keep this up, God knows what else she's hiding."

Lindsay's eyes widened, and she gasped. "Is she the one that stole my nail polish?!"

"Uh, probably."

"Oh. No. She. DIDN'T."

"Oh, yes she did."

"Talk about 'best friend'! She's _so _gone."

I patted her back. "Good. She deserves it."

I simply walked away and high-fived Duncan to signal victory.

He nodded and walked over to Owen, occasionally pointing at Beth and rolling his eyes. It seemed as if it were going smoothly.

Owen looked over at Beth, and looked unsure of what to do. Duncan crossed his arms and began talking again, glancing over at Beth often.

After a moment, Duncan started walking back. He then high-fived me, and I grinned.

"Yay! Should we try out Justin?" I asked. I then started walking towards him until Duncan grabbed my wrist and pulled me back.

"Unless Beth and him vote for the same person, we're pretty much good." Duncan nodded.

I thought it over for a brief moment, until I nodded. "Right."

I changed the subject. "So, are you going to be the psycho killer?"

He put a devilish smile on his face when he said, "Heh heh. Yes."

We approached the team and Duncan said, "I'm killer. Face it."

Harold shrugged and proceeded to hand him the mask until Chef grabbed it out of his hands.

"DJ is the killer," he protested.

"But we all agree that Duncan should be the psycho!" LeShawna exclaimed.

"It's the first time we've ever agreed on anything." Harold added.

"DJ. IS. THE KILLER." He yelled.

"Seriously. _I'm the fucking killer._" Duncan snapped.

To that, Chef simply picked him up and twisted his arms. I stared, shocked.

"Put him down, dammit!" I exclaimed.

Chef looked at me as Duncan tried to kick himself loose.

"What did you say?!" Chef shouted.

"Um…nothing. Sir."

"I thought so."

I rolled my eyes and murmured, "Just let the kid go."

Chef did as I said, and Duncan started rubbing his arms and tried moving them around to eliminate the pain. It seemed to be failing.

DJ took the mask (he didn't even seem to want it) and put it on. Duncan made a fist.

Duncan and I then left to hide for the challenge. There, when the cameras weren't in sight, I held his hand and asked, "Is your arm better?"

"I guess." He nodded.

As I was about to lean in to kiss him, I heard leaves rustle. I immediately loosened my grip on his hand and recoiled.

I murmured, "Camera."

He nodded. "Oh. That sucks."

"Yeah."

I then yawned. He politely moved the opposite direction, and I laid down. "Thank you."

I laid down, staring at the ground and twisting a blade of grass. I yawned again, and closed my eyes. He put his hand on my back. I quietly thanked him again.

A few minutes after that, I heard a tight hand grip my shoulder. I jumped up, screamed at the top of my lungs (after finding out my town's murder rate at age 10, I was always on guard) and wrapped my arms around myself. DJ was standing behind me and exclaimed, "I'm _so_ sorry, girl!"

Duncan screamed just to win the challenge – however, I could tell he really wanted to laugh.

Chris poked his head in and announced, "Now that's a full-fledged ten!...and a four..."

He glared at Duncan, yet regained his pearly-white smile, turning back to the camera. Duncan smirked.

"The Screaming Gaffers are screaming in the lead!" he finished. "And now to the Grips…"

With the clack of a director's board, the director exclaimed, "Done."

Chris immediately took a metal Altoid container out of his pocket and popped a mint into his mouth.

"How minty can one mouth get?" I whispered to Duncan.

"Frankly, I really don't know." He said back.

Chris then turned to us and said, "Good job, you two. Go to Set Four for the second part of the challenge, 'kay?"

We both nodded and began walking to the set.

After about four go's at the challenge and many disgusted faces, Duncan and I had to go up for the challenge. Didn't seem scary – no lynches, no pits of fire, no skeletons. It was an average living room with a couch, some family photos (and by that, I mean the sample pictures printed from Windows inside a frame) and a vase full of plastic flowers.

We sat down on the couch when Chris handed us scripts:

"_Scene 1_

SETTING: An average, 2000's era living room in Suburbia, USA.

PLOT: _Scene opens with _GIRL _and_ BOY _kissing on couch_."

I found myself violently blushing. I should ask Chris for a mint out of his infinite stash.

"_After a short period of time, _SLASHER _threatens to kill _BOY _and_ GIRL."

I bit my lip. That was a terrible ending. I looked over at Duncan. He bit his lip, yet he smiled.

"Memorized the script?" Chris asked.

I nodded. Duncan did as well.

"And…action!" he called, clacking the director's board.

Immediately, he leaned in and kissed me. I held him closer. I would do _everything_ I could at this point – instead of the hard ground or laundry machine, this was the most comfortable couch I've sat on in a while. I then slid onto his lap and kissed him more.

I then heard someone go, "Roar!" close in my ear. Duncan and I yelped, and I tightened my grip on him.

Chris tallied up the screams. "Okay…a six, and an eight. Nice job."

I grinned and slid off Duncan's lap and back onto the couch.

"Cool." I nodded.

"Okay…so that means that you guys win. Congrats. Onto the last part of the challenge."


	33. Ch33: Surprise, Surprise

Ah, this is the challenge for me.

Long story short, Chris told the Grips some bullshit fable about a cop who was killed in the Mess Hall. We just had to scare them out.

Duncan shrugged. "I can make some fake blood here."

I stared. The only place I ever got fake blood was either by putting ketchup on my wrists or purchasing it at Hot Topic. "You can actually _make_ it?"

He laughed, as if the answer was clear to see. "Yeah, it's easy. You just get ketchup, water it down a bit, and add stuff to give it the bloody taste."

He drank _blood_? Maybe like, a drop or two from a scar or something for me, but never…mouthfuls or anything.

"'Bloody taste?'"

"It's like, salty-ish. I cut the inside of my mouth once on like, a fork. Tasted interesting."

I nodded. "Oh…"

Reasonable. Still a bit creepy.

He poured a whole bottle of ketchup into a bowl, and poured a bit of water inside and stirred it up.

"Well, it's getting lighter." Duncan judged. "Um, salt. Salt, salt, salt."

DJ nodded. "I'll get some."

He grabbed a huge, blue container of Morton Salt and handed it to Duncan.

"Wow," Harold nodded, impressed. "You clearly know your way around the kitchen, huh?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure." DJ answered nervously.

"Um, corn syrup…" Duncan thought out loud, and DJ immediately grabbed a bottle. Duncan stirred it in, and slushed it around a bit in the bowl.

I looked at it. It looked extremely lifelike.

"Gwen," he turned towards me and said, "help me get this to seep through the walls."

I nodded and grabbed the bowl and spotted the grey door that closed up the kitchen window during afterhours. I opened it slightly and quietly, pouring the blood so it appeared to be seeping. Duncan then poured some in the keyhole and under the door.

After a moment, everybody in the Mess Hall began screaming.

"BLOOD!" Lindsay exclaimed. "Who's bleeding?! What's happening?"

Everybody immediately ran to the door until Lindsay said, "But the ghosty-thingy isn't going off."

DJ reassured us by raising up his hand and grabbing a fork. He tossed it at the ghost control, setting it off. Lindsay dropped the remote, frightened to death, and ran out immediately. We all high-fived each other, but Duncan simply grabbed my wrist and pulled me into a hug. I blushed.

Chris came in and exclaimed, "So the Screaming Gaffers have won!...again. Killer Grips are eliminating tonight…again.

Duncan and I were talking on a bench outside until DJ approached us.

"Hey," he said, "Chris wants us backstage at the Gilded Chris stage at five."

"That's when they eliminate." Duncan said. "But we're not getting rid of anyone."

"He just wants everyone there."

"Oh…kay."

He checked his watch. "It's a quarter to five. We should leave in like, ten minutes."

"I see." I nodded.

We sat around and talked for the remaining ten minutes, until we walked over backstage.

I sat there with Duncan and DJ. DJ looked extremely nervous. He was tapping his feet quickly as we listened to the elimination.

After a few minutes, Lindsay and Beth are in the final two. I bit my lip. Dear Lord, please let it be Beth. _Bitte_, _por favor_, _tevreden_…I don't care how many languages I have to plead in. _Just get her off_.

Then, DJ motioned us onstage with his hand. Looking at each other curiously, we followed. When he went on stage, he exclaimed, "STOP!"

Oh my God, what was he doing?

"I've been cheating for the last six challenges," he confessed. My jaw dropped. I was absolutely shocked. "Chef has been helping me. I'm sorry, for everything. I better be goi—"

"No," Chris exclaimed. "That is against _Total Drama Action_ rules, all participants must stay on set until they are fairly eliminated…"

Chris then read it further and added, "…_unless_ one person from the opposite team is eliminated along with them. So let's get on with our elimination, shall we?"

He cleared his throat and finished, "…and the final person eliminated from _Total Drama Action_ is…"

Beth looked as if she'll piss herself worrying. Lindsay bit her lip, worried. When she let go, the lip gloss was gone with it.

"…Beth. See you later, dudette." Chris waved. Her eyes were watering as she got up and left, walking down the Carpet of Shame. I reached back and held Duncan's hand in victory (PDA's were easy now for some reason – it was typical "bestie" behavior, I guess).

She walked down the carpet, took a deep breath, and walked inside the limo. DJ then turned towards us, waved, and we waved back, smiling. Beth then stuck her head out the sunroof and waved, "Bye, you guys!"

Everyone put their hand down, except for LeShawna. She wanted to be considerate.

As the two left, we all began walking to the trailers.

Duncan said to me, "I can't believe DJ lied to us like that…"

I nodded, until he finished his sentence. "…what a dick."

I playfully punched him in the arm. "That's mean! At least he's been helping us win…"

He bit his lip in thought, and ended up shrugging. "Guess so."

I then wrapped my arms around his left arm, and whispered, "So, two days?"

"Yup." He answered. I held him tighter. I spotted him smiling. I really didn't know I could actually entertain people – sexually or otherwise.

"Bah." I complained, "Why can't we just do it _tonight_?"

He then cracked. "Fine, sure, I'll see you tonight at…ten. Okay?"

I smiled and lifted his arm and put it around me and held him tighter. "Yippee."


	34. Ch34: FINALLY

**A/N: Finally. XD**

I was in the bathroom, a quarter to ten. I was frantically pacing back and forth, due to the fact there were four million feelings piling up over top one of another deep in my stomach: nervousness, worry, and excitement were a few.

I was popping mints like Jimi Hendrix popped sleeping pills (was that in ill taste? I think so). I usually found myself sucking on mints whenever I was nervous – usually having two or three in my mouth when I was really concerned. I was sucking on five.

I wore a black nightgown. Nightgowns didn't appeal to me, for the huge reason that it looks slutty. That's why it was perfect. I wore underwear that actually matched and black slippers to protect my feet from God-knows-what that lied in the grass on the way here.

I looked in the mirror. I should apply some makeup. I looked in my makeup bag, stashed underneath the cupboard. I wanted to take precautions, so I applied a lot of waterproof makeup. I then looked myself in the mirror. I hated to question Michelle's Sex Ed, but I asked myself, "Should I really just come out about being a virgin?"

I bit my lip. I didn't even have AIM to message her. _Shit_. I thought about it for a moment. If I tell him, he could either be totally turned on, yet totally turned _off_ – like the whole "Massacre-ish Bleeding" thing, or being pretty much the equivalent of an untrained puppy.

I sighed and hissed at myself, "Suck it up, Gwen!"

I sighed and walked out of the bathroom. The mints were burning up my mouth in a peppermint fire, so I spit them all out onto the grass. I looked at the laundry moon. My heart was pounding until I decided to _run_ there.

I went in and saw Duncan sitting on the laundry room. I smiled. "Hiya!"

"Hey. Ready?" he immediately asked.

I nodded. I sat next to him, and started kissing, all the while, stripping.

Soon, we were fucking. My virginity? – _poof_. It was totally gone. All I can say about this experience was:

Oh. My. God.

It fucking _hurt_. I hated it. Worse than tampons…and that was damn painful_._ I couldn't see why people looked forward to sex. Michelle was a bullshitter, this was _nothing_ to brag or talk about for hours on end. Maybe it was because it was my first time? I don't know. All I know is that I wanted it to _stop, _I wanted it to stop now. I was in so much pain to the point I was exclaiming, "Get the fuck off of me!"

This, sirs and madams, was _not_ movie sex. It was not perfect and steamy – well, steamy, totally. But it hurt a lot. It was _freaking hardcore._ I continued begging, "Please._ Get. Off. Of. Me_."

He looked perplexed, and after the sex (or terror), that's when I explained my whole situation all re-clothing myself in my nightgown as he put his jeans back on. I found myself talking extremely fast, almost unintelligible.

"I _never_ had sex before, I'm _really_ sorry for acting out like that, I'm not used to this at _all_…" I began telling him, explaining as thoroughly as I possibly could, until he said, "Hold it, hold it, hold it."

I shut up and he said, "It's fine. Don't worry."

"Yeah, once again, I'm sorry. I'm _so fucking sorry_."

"Stop apologizing…"

"No, I'm serious. I thought all sex was the same, like in the movies, and all…all romantic and steamy and perfect and—"

"It's _fine_." He reassured me. I couldn't stop. He then put his hands on my upper arms and exclaimed again, "STOP."

"Okay." I answered.

I cuddled up to him and after a long pause, he said, "Honestly, I'm sorry."

I looked up at him. "Why?"

"I didn't really know you…_were_ a virgin…" he smirked, then became serious again. "I would've been easier on you. Sorry."

"No, it's _my_ fault." I reassured him.

He sighed. "You know what? It's _both_ of our faults, okay?"

I nodded and quietly asked, "Can we try again…later? If we found another one?"

He nodded. "Cool, sure."

I thought of ways how to get another one so we could retry this – without me screaming for mercy. Chris definitely has more condoms around, right?

"We'll infiltrate Chris's trailer," I smiled devilishly. "He'll have a few condoms somewhere in his trailer. Just steal some and get out. Easy."

"Okay. Sweet." He nodded. "So…do you just want to hang here overnight?"

I held him tighter. "Mm-hm."

"'Kay." He held me closer. However, I couldn't fall asleep. I was way too awake. Maybe stimulated from the sex? It was a possibility.

After time passed, I started collecting thoughts. So, next time (when I, per se, am more _experienced_), maybe my feelings will totally change. Maybe it won't be painful at all, or maybe it'll be a _good_ type of pain. Hopefully.

I decided to fuck all of this (oh, that sounded wrong in this situation) and just fall asleep. I needed the rest for the morning.


	35. Ch35: G'Morning

I, like always, woke up to the annoying screeching of Duncan's watch. Instead of waiting for Duncan to do it, I shut off his alarm myself. It was an irksome little beeping, and if you leave it on for too long, it'll get stuck in your head like an annoying 80's song.

I sat up and gently shoved him awake. "Morning."

He sat up and greeted me, "Hey."

"I forgot to ask you last night: when exactly are you sneaking into Chris's trailer?"

He bit his lip, thinking, until he grinned mischievously, "I'm going to try tonight."

I got closer to him and asked in a somewhat slutty tone, "Anxious, are we?"

"Hell, yes, I am." He answered. "So, we should get back to the trailers. You have no clue who could be coming here to wash clothes in the next ten minutes."

I nodded, got up, and walked out of the door with him. As he headed off to the guys' cabin, I whistled after him. He turned back to me, and I blew him a kiss. Corny, yet it was still sweet, right?

He reached his arm up, motioned catching it, winked, and I almost felt myself melt.

That cozy, warm feeling – frankly, it caught me off guard. After we've been together for this long, the giggly high-school-sweetheart feeling should be but a distant memory.

But it wasn't gone. Having it linger around for a little while longer was honestly cute.

I walked inside the trailer and simply stared out the window. All I could see were the treetops and the sun peaking through. I grabbed my sketchbook, and instead of drawing them, I decided to use charcoal. Although I usually avoided charcoal with all costs – very messy, and usually left a black dust on your hands and clothes – but I felt that it would catch the value better. I started drawing the trees, and finished only moments before the girls woke up.

As everyone woke up, I evaluated my masterpiece. It was…okay, I suppose. As Lindsay put her sleeping mask to her side, she whined, "I miss Beth _so much_!"

I really didn't care, and gave her no symphony when I asked, "Do you have any hairspray?"

She gave me a befuddled look. "You never use hairspray. Why changing it up, girlie?"

"I'm not using it for coiffures."

"Of _course_ you wouldn't use it for your chauffer. You use it on your _hair_."

I rolled my eyes. "I'm using it to fix the charcoal on my drawing in place."

"Oh…kay." She handed me a huge aerosol can of hairspray, labeled, "Sleek SEXY Hair," the word "SEXY" in capital letters to emphasize how SEXY you will look if you use the product.

That sort of annoyed me, especially after last night's shenanigans.

I took the hairspray and made sure it was far away from the picture so the charcoal won't be blown off the page, yet close so the hairspray could actually touch the picture. I did it correctly, and it looked nice. No matter how much you shook it, the charcoal stuck like glue. I wasn't used to using this, because my art teacher had a product in class that was made mainly for _this_ use, not to primp your hair. He said hairspray was an alternative, yet it wasn't as effective as the real stuff.

I then decided to get dressed like the rest of us – I wore a green V-Neck shirt, a white Beatles T-Shirt, with black lettering and a green apple zipper. To match, I wore black shorts and black Converse shoes that laced up my shins and stopped just below my knee.

I sat on the bench outside until Duncan came out and slid down the railing that leads from the door of the trailer down to the ground.

I walked up to him and greeted him. After some conversation, I mindlessly blurted, "Dude, I just drew the most amazing forest. Ever."

"Shweet." He nodded. "With what?"

"Charcoal." I said, proudly.

"Where is it?"

"In my trailer."

"Can you get it? I never saw any of your drawings before."

I was a bit surprised. I thought he did. I guess I was mistaken.

"Never?" I asked.

"Nope," he shook his head. "Well…unless you count that cute little sketch of Trent you drew last season."

I glared. "That doesn't count."

He laughed as I added, "I'll get it."

I rushed back, got my sketchbook, and searched through it. Damn. I had a very detailed sketch of him I drew from memory a while back – I bit my lip. Was this: a) a cute gesture or b) a stalkeresque activity?

I went with my gut feeling – Choice B – and ripped it out, stuffing it in my pillowcase. I flipped further. Nothing else important was here – mostly still-life. There was also a sketch, the subject being the first broken bracelet. Honestly, I blushed.

I closed it and shook the sketchbook – I didn't know if Trent's envelope was here, in my journal, or somewhere unknown – and nothing fell out. Good.

I ran outside with my sketchbook sandwiched between my arm and hip. I approached Duncan and flipped it open to the drawing of the treetops.

"See?" I pointed to each detail as I mentioned it. "That's the trees outside of the trailer, and that thing right there is the sun peeking through the branches."

He nodded in approval. "Nice."

I grinned at my praise, and rushed back to throw my sketchpad on my bunk.

He then nudged my arm and pointed towards Chris, who was eating a fancy-looking omelet inside the Mess Hall.

"Be right back," Duncan said as he ran towards the woods.

"Go, go, go!" I exclaimed at the top of my lungs.

I waited there for about five minutes until he came back, panting.

"So?" I demanded. Instead of giving me a straight-forward answer, he hugged me. I yelped, and I inferred, "I guess it went well?"

He smiled. "Damn straight it did."

He lowered me done to the floor and I questioned, "How many did you get a hold of, anyway?"

He smiled. "Three."

"You're _fucking awesome_." I eulogized him. He smiled at my compliment.

We walked to the Mess Hall and ate breakfast – waffles. They weren't made fresh – they were Eggo waffles that weren't even cooked. Chef probably just thawed them out, mumbled, "Fuck it," and threw them on a plate to serve.

I poked them with a fork. I poured some syrup and put a dollop of butter on the waffle. I spread it all over the waffle with a fork and started eating it. It was an interesting taste.

After I was halfway done, I couldn't take it anymore. I stole a piece of rye toast from Duncan's plate and put the rest of the waffle there in its place.

"Maybe he won't notice." I said, loudly and facetiously.

"I noticed," he answered, smiling, not looking up from his plate.

I stared at him, his eyes sparkling from the light above. I loved his eye color. His eyes were teal. _Teal._ How many people have teal eyes?

He spotted me staring at him when he laughed, "Do you mind?"

I escaped my reverie and turned back to my toast. I spread some butter on it quickly while nervously answering, "Sorry, sorry."

Suddenly, a huge explosion shook the whole mess hall. I squeaked in nervousness – were we having an _earthquake_? There were no faults in Toronto. At least, none that I knew of.

Chris came in exclaiming, "Come to Set Eleven as soon as possible! Today will be an utter _disaster_!"

Lindsay gasped, her face contorted with fear. "Did Beth steal more of my nail polish?!"

Chris stared at her. "Hush! Hush. _Ningún interrupt el Chris_."

Lindsay bit the corner of her bottom lip and murmured, "Sorry, Chip."

Chris looked at her, confused, and ran to the set.


	36. Ch36: Disaster

**A/N: Apparently, I live in the 3****rd**** unhappiest place in the country. Explains so much.**

Duncan and I walked to the set to find a huge obstacle course, complete with monkey bars, a rock wall, and more.

It looked like my elementary school playground on serious steroids.

There was a little flag marked, "START," so we all stood around there.

Chris then called, "Okay, you guys should simply cross this disastrous, _moving_ obstacle course. Be aware, however – there are many more surprises along the way."

I sighed. There was always some fucked-up twist to go with the _already_ fucked-up challenge.

"And…" he stared at his watch and blew a horn, signaling to go.

I immediately began running, stepping over every obstacle. Not much at first – old tires, fallen wires, and traffic cones. Ahead was a massive wall – one that you could very easily walk around. I did just that.

I looked over at Chris with a smart-ass look on my face. He stared back, surprised at my actions.

"What the…" he looked at me, reviewed the footage, and stared in absolute bewilderment. He looked over at Chris. "How the_ fuck_ did you overlook that?"

Chef glared. "I'm not fucking perfect, dude."

I ran further, towards the finish line, until a huge set of monkey bars came into my path, and tomato soup – sorry, I mean _lava_ – was seeping down.

I began murmuring, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_…"

It was steaming hot, and I hopped up and began climbing towards the finish. I hated the monkey bars. I was never good at monkey bars. And if I fell, I would _burn_. And I didn't feel like having my flesh charred off today.

I began swinging my way to the end of the course, until my right hand began slipping. I yelped, and regained my grip. I started climbing again, and halfway through, I heard a loud, sickening "crunch" sound. I couldn't turn around, but I heard someone exclaim, "Oh, shit! Owen!"

I finished the monkey bars as fast as I could, and turned around to see Owen in so much pain, he couldn't even move his jaw. Most people were around him, trying to ease his pain.

He was soon taken by an ambulance with a broken jaw (apparently Chef has been throwing autobiographies at children?). And, he isn't even apologetic for him breaking the kid's freaking jaw, and possibly knocking a tooth or two.

While waiting for Owen to come back from hospital, Chris just said, "Just finish the race…we have to put this course to use…"

I crossed the line – feeling accomplished of myself, being first to finish with my "take the easy way out" tactics.

Soon, every one started piling towards the finish. Duncan finished second, Justin third, Harold was fourth, LeShawna was fifth and Lindsay was last (if you don't include Owen). We got out team here first!

So, that means we win, right?

No.

"Being that Owen is on medical leave, the Killer Grips have a penalty." Chris announced. "Therefore, they win the challenge!"

I stared, dumbfounded. "That's fucking _retarded_! We got here first, we _worked_ the most! All they had to do was get Owen hit in the fucking mouth with a book—"

Chris interrupted me by holding up his index finger and exclaiming, "Tut, tut, tut!"

I sighed and crossed my arms in irritation. He continued, "Okay, come to Set 12 for your submarine challenge!"

Lindsay smiled eagerly and exclaimed, "Like the song?!"

Chris scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Eh…not really."

Lindsay's smile lessened.

I grabbed Duncan's arm and dragged him out to the set.

"Well," he smiled facetiously, "somebody's angry."

I turned towards him and sarcastically added, "Oh, just a _tad_."

"It's nothing," he reassured me, "it's only a reward, after all?"

I stared. "What if it's something good?"

"Like what?"

I leaned in closer to him and offered, "Maybe the reward is a fancy dinner out with a friend of your choice."

"Charming," he commented.

We came up to a sign that had a symbol of a green light-bulb (Gaffers) and a red fist (Grips). The red one pointed to the left, the green one pointed to the right.

We started walking towards the right and into a set. It was a bland gray with an escape hatch at the top, and bottom. The one up at the top was unlocked by a simply turning the handle, the one at the bottom had a code.

We walked fully inside, and the doorway immediately shut.

A loud feedback was heard, until Chris's voice came up on the crackly intercom. "Okay, your objective is to escape this sinking submarine. And…go!"

As he said "go," a red siren went off with a deafening alarm. Many pips burst, drenching us with water. I looked over at Duncan. His eyes were closed shut to protect them from the water. His shirt was soaked, and now tight, outlining his abs.

I grinned, checking them out, until I escaped my daydream and went back to reality.

I looked around, hitting every button I could, trying to get out. Unfortunately, I hit one that burst another pipe. I hit it again, and it broke even more. I covered my mouth with my hand, feeling extremely guilty.

"Nice." Harold nodded. "_Real_ nice."

I spotted Duncan glaring at him, until he rolled his eyes and continued trying to rip the lock off of the bottom escape.

I shook my head. "This isn't working."

Harold began yanking on a handle of a door. "This isn't working either!"

Duncan looked up and bit his lip, thinking. "How about we wait until the water rises high enough to go out this hatch?"

I nodded. "That could work."

We waited around, waiting for our master plan to commence, all while trying to find other, quicker ways out, until Harold tried to capture our attention.

"Guys! I can get out of here by u—" he started, until Duncan interrupted.

"Kid, whatever you do doesn't work."

"But it _will_. I'm sure of it. Now, all I have to do is listen to th—"

"Seriously. Stop…_please_."

Harold glared at Duncan and simply sat down with a glum expression.

We waited around and talked for a while until the water rose high enough to the point where we could reach the hatch.

"Okay, let's do this." Duncan held out his hand towards me and instructed, "Get on my shoulders."

I nodded and climbed onto his shoulders. I leaned up, grabbed the hatch and exclaimed, "Got it…I'm turning it!..."

"Okay…is it open?" he asked.

I twisted it a bit further, and it opened.

"Yes!" I exclaimed. I opened it to the beautiful sunlight shining down. There was a handy ladder. I started climbing, and called down, "Come on up! We're going to win!"

When I was all the way up and safe, I reached down and grabbed Duncan's wrists. He grabbed mine, and I pulled him up. After he was up, it sort of became a train – he pulled up LeShawna, and she helped Harold up. I closed the latch and we ran towards Chris as fast as we could – it was frankly difficult, since our clothes were still sticky and sopping wet. We arrived at his trailer, and we flung the door open, water splashing everywhere.

Once we saw Chris, Harold announced, "We're here…we're here."

Chris looked up, while drinking a daiquiri of some sort. "How did you guys get here?"

I pointed towards the hatch, confused. "…that hatch."

Chris bit his lip and muttered, "Shit!"

He looked up, smiled to look positive. "So…no snakes came out of that hatch?"

We shook our heads in unison.

Chris bit his lip, and started stirring his daiquiri innocently. "No…fire?"

So we were supposed to be either bitten by venomous snakes, or set on fire?

Charming.

"No spiders? Slime? Knives? Spikes?"

LeShawna shook her head. "No life threatening devices of any kind, no…"

Chris took another sip of his daiquiri and sighed after the cold rush of the drink rushed down his throat.

"Well, um, you guys should go back and dry yourselves off. Seriously. You're tracking water all over the place."

We proceeded to the communal washroom and got towels. I was absolutely shivering from the cold water. Everyone left as I was reapplying my makeup, which was smudged. After applying eyeliner to my left eye, I immediately began feeling sick, as if I were about to vomit. It was odd – I didn't eat too much, or too little. Either way, I ran over to the toilet and threw up.

I felt lightheaded and absolutely disgusting after that. After using about a gallon of mouthwash, I looked myself in the mirror. I finished applying my makeup, just so I didn't look like an idiot with half of my face coated in cosmetics.

Halfway through applying lipstick, I realized why I threw up. I trembled. _I was pregnant_.

I was close to hyperventilating. So many thoughts rushed through my head – was I like, absolutely positive of it? Or was it a hysterical pregnancy?

I bit my lip, and said to myself, "No. No. This can't be happening."

I poked my stomach. It looked and felt the same. Nevertheless, I burst into tears.


	37. Ch37: Hopefully So

I was back in the trailer, with every other girl, sitting in shocked silence. I spotted LeShawna. I needed a girl that could back me up in my situation.

"LeShawna?" I squeaked.

"Yeah, girl?" she asked.

"Can I talk to you alone?"

"Yeah, sure. What's up."

I got off my bunk, and dragged her outside behind the trailer. I fought the tears, and I bless my lucky stars that I won.

"I have a lot of explaining to do," I began, "but I _think_ I'm pregnant."

She stared in shock. She was speechless. And LeShawna was never speechless. This, ladies and gentlemen, was an accomplishment.

"…how?!" she asked. "Who the hell would be the father, anyway?"

I couldn't come to say the name.

"…was it Trent? Did you – you know, _get together_ – before the breakup?"

I shook my head. "It's not Trent."

She was, once again, even more shocked. "Who?"

"Guess. Please."

"Duncan?" she asked, inaudibly.

I nodded.

"Oh. My. God." She stared. "How long?"

I was afraid to tell her. I squeaked, "…a week?"

"Dear Lord."

I couldn't fight the tears anymore. It's done. I'm pregnant. I'm fucking over. "What do I _do_? I'm not even _totally_ sure I'm pregnant! This is fucking terrible!"

"Well, why do you think you're pregnant?"

"I threw up."

"What did you eat today?"

"Toast and a waffle."

She bit her lip. "Maybe…maybe the waffles were expired."

"Dear Lord, I hope so."

"What did you eat a few nights before?"

"I haven't been eating much. I'm afraid of the possible salmonella, e-Coli, swine flu, and mad cow disease that probably lurks within."

She sighed in relief. "Girl, you're not pregnant. You're just starving. Eat whatever you get."

"What if I get mad cow disease?"

"You won't."

I looked at her in dissatisfaction. "I'm still worried."

She grabbed my shoulders. "Don't be. Fix your makeup and don't worry. I know this, girl."

I sighed. "Yeah…yeah, you're probably right…thank you."

"No problem, girl."

As she proceeded to leave, I grabbed her arm and requested, "Don't tell anyone about me and Duncan. Nobody knows but you. Please?"

She nodded. "I've got your back."

I smiled in relief. It was great that even though LeShawna hates Duncan with a passion of a thousand burning suns, she still stays true to a friend.

I wiped the smudged makeup off of my face with my hands, and ran to the communal washroom to reapply my makeup yet again. In an act of insanity, I began talking to my reflection again.

"It's okay," I reassured myself. "It was a hysterical pregnancy thing. You're okay."

I doubted myself.

It was absolutely desolate outside of the trailers. I checked the time on my iPod. I sighed. Eight-thirty. Time passed quickly. In thirty minutes, I should head off to the laundry room.

Pregnant or not, we're trying this shit again.

I looked at my iPod calendar and checked what day I was supposed to have my period, and that was apparently in four days.

Okay. I can manage that.

I sat on a bench outside. I didn't want to sleep at all. I just wanted to wait for the time to pass.

After about ten minutes of simple waiting, I heard footsteps.

"Wutsur chu chuing?" a voice asked. What the hell was that? I looked up. I saw Owen with a metal contraption on his jaw.

"What?" I asked. "I don't know what you're saying."

"What. Urr. You. Doing."

Ohh.

"I'm just sitting around…what are you doing?"

"Takwing aw wulk." (Taking a walk.)

"Oh."

"Wull…see chu later."

I waved as he walked back towards the guys' trailer.

When the door shut, I laid back down on the bench. I was confused due to the (possibly hysterical) pregnancy, the sex, the _everything_.

I checked the time again. It was 8:56. I better get up.

I sat up, and walked towards the laundry room. Once I got in, I sat on the washer. After a few minutes of extended waiting, Duncan came in, surprised at my being there.

"You're early." He said, his tone a mix between pleasure and disappointment. It was a weird combination.

"Yeah," I nodded. "Impatience."

He grinned and hopped on the washer. "Are you _not_ going to beg for mercy?"

"Shut up," I said strictly.

"Okay, okay."

And so, we proceeded to have sex. Once again.

Honestly, it was better. It was fucking amazing, actually. There was a bit of pain, but about a million times _less _terrible as it was the first time. It was a relief – I thought I wouldn't want the thing most humans craved, which was of course, sex.

At this moment, I take back everything I said about Michelle being a bullshitter. Every last word, I regret. I fully understand why she brags about this – it's _ecstasy_.

Afterwards, I honestly felt absolutely in love. I was in love, and I don't care who knew it. I didn't care if I was possibly pregnant (well, I did. Just not at the time). I just cared that he was _mine_.

After this, I only knew one thing.

_I wanted more._


	38. Ch38: Thank God

**A/N: I swear so much in this chapter for some reason…o.0**

I woke up this morning at my own pace – which absolutely frightened me, since it could be hours and hours after call time. I sat up, shoved Duncan to wake him up and tried the door handle. It was locked – thank the fucking Lord.

Duncan sat up, and yawned. "What time is it?"

"Check your watch," I demanded, "we overslept."

Jesus Christ, this was a terrible situation. Who knows what the hell was going on right now? I glanced over at Duncan, who was checking the time.

"Damn," he muttered, "it's seven o'clock."

He got up, and said, "Well, I'll see ya" before he rushed out the door. Before I could stomp my foot and demand him to come back here, I looked around. Jesus, the place was a fucking mess.

As I was cleaning the shithouse up, I noticed some blood on top of the washer.

Oh. My. God.

LeShawna was right, this was a hysterical thing! I smiled, and as I cleaned the blood with the comforter before throwing it in the washer.

My period was early. And I was absolutely relieved. I didn't have to spend three days worrying about a possible kid. The only bad thing about it was that I couldn't have sex with Duncan for a while.

Great. Just…_great_.

I cleaned everything up and walked over to the trailer and got fully dressed – I wore an old Twilight shirt that hardly fits me anymore, a white hoodie to hide the fact that I was wearing a Twilight t-shirt, black skinny jeans and white Converse.

I walked out the door and began running to the Mess Hall. Halfway there, I heard bombs.

_Fucking. Bombs_.

What the hell did any other nation have to do with damn Canada?! And why did they have to bomb fucking Toronto?

This is freaking horrifying. This was fucking terrorism. As I started running again, it hit me that I was experiencing a freaking terrorist attack. I was running to the Mess Hall for my life, and once I got in, I screamed, "What country is dropping the fucking bombs?!"

Everyone just stared. Chris laughed like the asshole he is. "It isn't terrorism, it's _movie magic_."

I stared. This whole situation was freaking ridiculous. "You are batshit _insane_."

"Maybe if you were actually _there_ when we ordered the castmates to wake up, you'd be aware that today's movie is war-themed."

Oh my Jesus, this guy was the biggest dick I have ever met. I balled my fists and sat down.

LeShawna looked at me. I looked back at her. "…what?"

She innocently pointed to the food. I bit my lip. Right.

I got up, grabbed a bagel and cream cheese, and began eating. I couldn't eat the whole thing – I didn't have the taste for it.

Duncan entered soon after I grabbed the bagel. I waved and motioned him towards me. He waved back, and sat with me. We had light conversation until he coiled his right leg around my left one. I never played footsie before. The closest I came to footsie was kicking Reaper in art after he told me my painting looked like puke on a canvas.

I grinned and thought to myself, "This is so cute" before Chris interrupted it by saying, "Okay, we're on a tight schedule! Let's move, move, _move_!"

I got up, threw my plate in the trash, and stayed behind the usual group with Duncan.

Still blushing, I told him, "That was cute."

He held my hand, and our fingers interlocked. I began blushing even more.

After a minute, Lindsay turned around, looked at us, and Duncan soon pulled me into his chest and put me in a loose chokehold.

I saw Lindsay twitch her nose – irritated by Duncan's actions – and turn around.

After she turned around, he let me go from his chokehold and held my hand tighter.

"Nice save, Mister Tough," I said jokingly.

"Thanks, I know." He smiled.

As we were approaching the set, somebody bagged us with a camouflage sack.

"What the fuck?!" Duncan exclaimed, trying to punch the person dragging the sack.

"Chris…_you are batshit insane!_" I screamed.

As we were being dragged off, I held onto Duncan – might as well make this a good situation. He held me, too, and began to gently kiss my cheek. I quickly moved my head so he'd be kissing my lips instead, and began kissing him back.

Just as I was getting into it, whoever dragged us here dropped the sack. I quickly stopped kissing him as the sack opened and we could get out.

Once we managed to get out, we found ourselves on a plane.

What the fuck?!

We got up and looked at everyone else, sacked. We untied all the sacks and sat down on the bench, waiting for Chris to come out here and tell us about our first challenge.

Chris did eventually come out in a general's uniform. Oh, GOD.

"Today is a war-themed challenge," he instructed. "Our first challenge is to jump out of this war plane and into the rice patties below."

I stared, horrified. Justin asked, "You…you actually got rice patties. Are you serious?"

"More serious than I'll ever be," Chris pointed out. "Now, here's the catch…"

I bit my lip as he said, "The funds for props are low, so…there's only one parachute for you to use."

My jaw dropped. The producers are out of their shit-for-heads.

Chris then grabbed the parachute and said, "And that parachute belongs to me. You have ten minutes until the plane goes down. Toodles."

He then hopped out the window, followed by the sound of the parachute opening. Now there were only two sounds – the plane's propeller and our screaming.

I was too afraid to look out the window. I stayed towards the rear of the plane, so maybe I'll survive when it crashes.

Minutes passed like hours. Harold and Owen were planning out their wills, and hoping they'll be captured on film for record.

About a minute to predicted crash time, Justin stood up and said, "This is fucking ridiculous."

Lindsay looked up. "What?"

"Listen, I'm going to jump. We're going to fucking die either way. I'm going."

She gasped and grabbed his arm with her left hand and a handle with her right. "NO! You're staying RIGHT HERE, mister!!"

He turned towards her and continued, "I'd rather break a bone than have my whole, beautiful complexion burned in a fire. Besides, the fire will burn the plastic I implanted in my cheekbone to make them look more inviting."

I rolled my eyes. Jesus Christ, he had no idea what would happen by jumping off a plane at God-knows-how-many-thousand feet.

He shrugged and waved. Shortly after, Lindsay ran after him and exclaimed, "I'm coming too!!"

We all stared, our faces transfixed with horror, until we heard a slight "oof" sound. Duncan looked perplexed, and walked towards the door with everyone else.

"Oh, you're fucking kidding me!" he exclaimed in exasperation.

I poked my head through the crowd to see a huge, plump gym mat on the floor. Lindsay clearly fell on Justin, while he was struggling to get her off of him.

Once he succeeded, he briskly got up and walked off the mat while everybody else hopped out.

"This place is a damned insane asylum," I murmured as I jumped on the mat, and soon walked off.

We came up to the scene for our second challenge. Immediately, Chris said, "Now, we've noticed a huge imbalance with our teams."

The Killer Grips nodded, knowing the underdogs always get the rewards. The Gaffers, on the other hand, weren't so steady.

"Rather than merging the teams now, we are adding a castmate to the Grips side." He announced. The Grips smiled eagerly, and I bit my lip quite harshly.

"Please welcome back Trent!" Chris announced, and stepped to the side to reveal Trent himself.


	39. Ch39: No

**A/N: Happy Christmuhannukwanzaakkah, everyone! XD**

I was terrified of this. This was the most terrifying thing ever. He would…beg for a second chance or try to seduce me or _something_ to try to get me to go out with him. Again, even after he went all competitive and jackass-y…and, most importantly, creepy. It was like a homeless stalker-thing stuck in a sixteen-year-old musician's body.

That was a hell of a nightmare.

I mean, there was no getting around the fact he still liked me. He said I was "the one". I don't feel that way at all. And I don't recall a time I really ingrained that thought into my mind. The only time I ever thought or said, "Yup, this boy's the one for me" was probably short-lived hysteria after kissing him or something.

I decided the best thing to do was to just continue what I was doing now. Just think of Trent as a competitor – a simple rival in a petty little television show. He was nothing to really worry about. He wasn't even on the same team – I never talk to anyone on the Grips. Never. I pretty much dislike everyone on the Grips.

I stood there as Trent walked in, wearing a white V-Neck shirt, black skinny jeans, and Converse that were so old, it looked like someone tossed them through a shredder. And, his hair was as disheveled as ever.

I don't think he owns anything for his hair. I think he wakes up, mumbles, "Eh, tomorrow" and goes off playing "You're Beautiful" on his acoustic on a street corner, laying his guitar case open, begging for tips so he can afford more stuff for his guitar, rather than save up for something important, like college.

He looked over at me and simply waved. I had a half-smile – I wanted to show how much I didn't care for his existence, yet be polite – as I held up my hand to show acknowledgement.

I turned towards Chris, who continued, "This next challenge may appeal to a few of you…others? Not so much."

This worried me almost as much.

"See these two separate, far-away buildings behind me?" he turned, referring to the two buildings that had the appearance of war stations. "You blow them up…with paint explosives."

I looked at Duncan. I smiled because I knew he would be excited to make something explode. I turned, and indeed, he did look quite interested to blow stuff up.

I turned back towards Chris, as he said, "Choose one person to plan out the bombs – that will take five minutes - and the rest of the team will plant them in ten minutes flat. When you come back, your planner will blow it up, and we'll see how your explosion goes."

Duncan immediately said, "Yeah, I'm definitely going to blow this thing up."

I grinned, and LeShawna said, "…well that settles it. C'mon, skinny boy. Plan it out."

Chris then looked over towards the Grips. Lindsay then stood in front of her team, signaling that she was leading them for the day.

Well, this is going to be quite an easy win.

Chef then arrived in an identical general's uniform, holding two blueprints. Chris read the labels on top, and gave them to the corresponding team. He then gave out markers. "Planners…you can start now."

Duncan immediately rolled it open, and as he was thinking of where to plant bombs, he bit the end of the marker.

As he was planning, Lindsay just scribbled in the middle of the paper and said, "Why not just poof the middle of the building?"

She then rolled it up and announced, "We have our plan!"

I leaned over and asked Duncan, "So, how's it coming?"

"I'm just finding out how powerful this one bomb has to be to perfect this whole thing…"

"Aw, you sound so smart."

"Thanks."

He bit the end of the marker, until writing a "3" and rolling it up and handing it back.

Chris looked over the plans, nodded, and said, "Okay. We'll get all of the paint, and plan photocopies ready. You can do some pre-challenge planning."

He left towards an unidentified room while Duncan said, "Okay, so we're blowing up that shithouse over there, right? So, Harold, you take the northern wing, LeShawna takes the east, I'll take the west, and Gwen can take the southern one."

I nodded. "Sounds solid. What is this going to turn into, anyway?"

He smiled mischievously. "You'll see."

"So we're involved in something we have no idea about," LeShawna stated.

"…pretty much." Duncan shrugged. LeShawna sighed. I sort of drifted out of conversation now. I was just darting my eyes around, looking for a small distraction, until LeShawna said, "Gwen."

I turned towards her, and she said, "Your ex is eyeing you from the other team."

I glanced at Trent. Indeed, he was. Duncan looked over at him and mumbled, "Lovesick little douche."

Harold stared after Duncan's insult, to which Duncan snapped, "What? He is!"

I shrugged. "He's freaking obsessive. Why do you think I dumped him in the first place?"

It was true – once Trent put his mind to something, he couldn't get it out. He stuck with it. If it was about something he wanted – like a new guitar or even a girl – he fought for it/her until he was positive that it/she was under his possession. If it was a goal, he would work on it until he reached it – and beyond. Like the competition. That was the secondary reason I dumped him, actually – the first was that I found someone better. The competition was forcing Trent to focus on just the contest – not on _me_.

Sounds selfish, but it's absolutely true.

LeShawna nodded. "It's okay. As long as you don't go back."

"I won't," I quickly added. I then murmured, "Besides, roadies who think they're hot shit…at the end of all the drama, they always show to be grade-A jackasses."

LeShawna nodded. Duncan then said, "Hopefully he won't follow you around like a damn puppy begging for forgiveness."

I nodded, and Chris then came out with blueprints. He handed them out, and stacked the paint bombs for each team.

"Okay, look at your blueprints, follow your plan, and grab the necessary bombs before the challenge itself starts."

I read the southern wing. It seemed easy – it was just a few weak bombs, a couple of yards apart. I see why Duncan gave me the southern wing – it was freaking easy.

I walked over to the pile, and searched for the bombs labeled with a "1". I found all the ones I needed, and walked over to the starting line.

Chris had the starting gun, and aimed it at the sky. As everyone lined up, he called "go".

I rushed to the building when I heard a _thud_ in the distance. Chef then shouted, "Goddammit, PETA's going to be on your ass, boy."

I reached the building, and planted the bombs in the right locations before getting out quickly, saving time. Harold was ahead of me by a few feet, until he tripped and lost his glasses. I looked over towards the other team. Trent was ahead of me by a couple of feet. He then stopped, looked up at the sky, wiped his brow, and continued on.

Maybe if he cut his damn hair, he wouldn't be as hot.

I reached the finish line, and sat down on the bench awaiting me. Soon, Duncan was walking out, and LeShawna then exited shortly afterwards.

I looked over at the building. It was totally rigged. I then looked at Lindsay, eager to see what her team had assembled.

Chris then approached us. "Okay. Lindsay, would you do the honors?"

Lindsay stood up and said in her high-pitched voice, "Of course!"

She took the dynamite, looked at the building, and bit her lip in excitement. She pushed down the lever, and nothing happened. There was nothing to be heard but a little "poof" from inside, and the sound of small rubble falling. A bit of smoke escaped the building when Owen said, "Aw! It didn't work!"

Justin stared at Lindsay in annoyance. She gently put the TNT down and walked back to her seat, her face bright red with embarrassment.

"Well, that sucked." Chris said as he handed Duncan the TNT. "Okay, you're up."

Duncan firmly grasped the handle, and pushed it down. Suddenly, a huge explosion exploded the building, throwing rubble and planks of wood all over the set. Chris even got a splash of paint on his face.

He coughed, and wiped the bright blue paint off of his face. "That…was the most unoriginal explosion I've seen all day. But, a bad explosion is better than_ no_ explosion. Gaffers win first challenge."

It was a bittersweet victory – we won, due to the suckish-ness of the other team.

But, a win is a win, right?


	40. Ch40: Trying My Luck and Aspic

Jesus. Fucking. Christ.

Our third challenge is for the Grips to attempt to infiltrate us. Where the fuck were we, Iraq?

We hid in an underground shelter – we had an advantage here, since a few cracks in the rock served as peepholes to the outside. Duncan and Harold were quarrelling as usual. I had my iPod on, trying to listen to "(If You're Wondering if I Want You To) I Want You To" – my favorite song – when they just got so annoying, I snapped, "Will you two just shut the hell up and think of a plan?"

Duncan turned towards me and rolled his eyes. "Fine. He saw a massive crack in the rock above, and he stepped on a rock in order to see through.

"What do you see?" LeShawna asked.

"Uh, not—oh, shit!" Duncan whispered (quite loudly, though), and hopped down.

"What was it?"

"Trent's _right. There._"

I bit my lip. Harold then asked, "Well, what do we do?"

"Shut up!!" Duncan snapped back.

He hopped back up on the rock. He was watching the outside, like a hawk. After a good five minutes, I looked up. "You don't have to watch them every second."

I could tell he was processing the thought of quitting his watch as he bit his lip and looked down at his feet. He then jumped off, and sat next to me.

I had "(If You're Wondering If I Want You To) I Want You To" on replay, and once it turned on and I explained it was my favorite song, I switched "replay" off and handed him an ear bud.

Weezer was my feel good band – they had songs that were amazingly good, and also amazingly lighthearted. We were silent, nodding to acknowledge the music, until the fourth track came on. It featured Li'l Wayne – a main reason on why I lost faith in my generation. He used about twenty names for himself that absolutely had nothing to do with his singing or character (except for Weezy. That is true – he coughs like fucking crazy). I hated him ever since I saw a shirt on the boardwalk that read, "LI'L WAYNE 2008". I had no clue who he was until I read a short article on him in "People".

And that was hate at first sight.

I turned the volume down a smidge, and that's when Duncan said, "Li'l Wayne is a plague."

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"He's a plague," he repeated. "He kills everything he touches."

I grinned, and laughed a bit. "That's freaking great because it's true."

And then Trent's voice overcame. "I think I found it!"

I sighed. We were fucking defeated. Duncan held up his hand, motioning us to wait, and he got back up in his crow's nest (aka, the rock). He must have been reconciling something, trying to bribe Trent. After some inaudible bargain, Duncan hopped off the rock, rolling his eyes.

I looked at him, curious at the fate of the challenge. "And so?"

"The bitch wouldn't listen to reason," he sighed. "I offered a deal, and he declined."

"This blows."

"I know."

In a matter of minutes, Chris and the Killer Grips arrived. Trent had his arms crossed. For an odd reason, he looked over at me, and his already indifferent expression transformed into a slight frown.

I didn't really care for his feelings, but I was curious about why he suddenly showed disinterest in me.

"Well," Chris announced, "It appears that you have been infiltrated. That means that the Grips win the challenge!"

The Grips then switched to celebratory mood as Chris addressed us, "That means one of the Gaffers will be going on home. I'll see you at Elimination."

We all got up and walked out. Duncan was walking, his hands in his pockets, oddly quiet. I simply turned around and began walking backwards, right in front of him.

"So," I asked, "Who should we eliminate?"

He looked around for witnesses, until saying, "We should get LeShawna out of here. She's a pain in the ass."

"No," I protested, "I trust LeShawna, I'm keeping her here…how about Harold?"

Duncan looked up, thinking, until nodding. "Yeah. He has no use, anyway."

"So," I asked. "What deal did you offer?"

He shrugged. "Twenty dollars and a muffin."

My eyes widened in surprise. "Really? Trent never turned down a muffin."

"Well, he did this time."

"Why'd he have to pick _now_ to turn down an ugly cupcake?"

Duncan smiled. "Ugly cupcake?"

"Yeah, that's what muffins are.

"Really."

"Yup. That's the secret confessions of a muffin."

He stopped walking and looked straight into me. Like, in my eyes. "You're hilarious. In an odd way. I hope you know that."

I nodded. "Yeah."

We approached the Mess Hall, and what was on the table almost caused me to faint.

_Cheesecake_.

Dear God. Cheesecake was so rare in my family, we only ordered one from the Cheesecake Factory during the holiday season to have on Christmas Day. And here was a huge cheesecake. On the box, it read, "Cinderella Cheesecake: Serves 5-15 People".

I immediately asked, "Is this for us?"

Chris then darted in, swiped the cheesecake off the table and said, "No. It is for three people – me, myself, and I."

And he took the damn cheesecake away.

"I really wanted that cake." I murmured to myself.

Rather than the heavenly cake that taunted me a few moments ago, we ate aspic.

For those unaware, aspic is a gelatin, made from beef or fish stock, most commonly made with a calf's foot. Basically, it's meat jelly. One reason it's famous is due to its role in some Julia Child cookbook – which is supposed to appeal to the average, servant-less American.

However, I doubt if beef-flavored Jello would appeal to the average, servant-less American household.

However, I was surprised as the gelatin oozed onto my tray, when I remembered that a calf's foot is hard to find, and probably expensive once somebody finds it. Plus, they are hard to make – I'm referring to the part where you flip it out of a pan and onto a plate, actually.

So, the producers aren't low-budget when it comes to food. They just like making us throw up.

Once I left the lunch line, I was about to throw my food out when LeShawna shook her head. I stared and said, "I'm not eating this shit!"

"You have to," LeShawna sighed. "We all have to."

I took it to my table and stared at the jelly-fied baby cow.

I could hear it, just mooing for forgiveness. I poked the jelly with my fork until I broke.

"No! NO! This is disgusting!"

LeShawna silently glared at me while Duncan said, "You don't have to eat it."

He took his own advice, I could clearly tell – his aspic was well in the garbage.

I closed my eyes and said, "Dammit…I'm going to try it at least."

I held my fork in my left hand, and upside down – my mom said that was the proper way to eat, so…why not start now? – and poked the aspic again. I could feel it jiggle, even with my eyes shut. I tilted the fork so it sliced the jelly, and ate it.

I downed it, feeling proud of myself – yet also sick to my stomach. I opened my eyes to a terrified crowd.

"Um…so…how was the aspic?" Duncan asked, obviously horrified.

"…Different." I answered, still trying to get the taste out of my mouth without scrubbing my tongue with a napkin.

"…sorry." LeShawna whispered awkwardly under her breath.

I held up my hand, excusing her.


	41. Ch41: Infiltration

**A/N: Here's a cool question: would a modern-day crossover of "Corpse Bride" and DxG be amazing or what? XD**

I primped myself up in the bathroom mirror, listening to "Revolver" – the greatest album to ever be released. I rethought who I was going to eliminate, and I ultimately stuck with my decision to eliminate Harold…even if LeShawna talked me into trying the goddamned aspic.

After I was done, I rechecked my looks in the mirror. Looking sharp there, Gwenster. I walked outside. Trent was practicing some acoustic song that I honestly had no interest in. I walked past him, paying no mind to his sappy little love song, and to the elimination stage. I almost forgot it – we haven't lost in a while. It was dimly lit, and the three Gilded Chris awards shimmered under the light.

Harold and I were the only ones there now. He was sitting in the front row, all the way towards the right. I sat in the back row, all the way to the left. I looked over at the entrance. LeShawna came in next and sat in the middle.

The curtain behind the stage shuffled, and Chris exited, wearing a sharp tuxedo. After a moment, Duncan entered and sat next to me.

"Hey," I said, then playfully asked, "Where have you been?"

"I dunno," Duncan shrugged.

We conversed for a little while until the lights suddenly got brighter and Chris said, "Okay, time to get this started."

I sat up and listened attentively. "Now, whoever gets eliminated walks down the Carpet of Shame, into the Limousine of Losers, and gets the hell out of here. Underneath your seats is an electronic voting device, just touch the picture of the person you want to see go."

I grabbed my voting device and immediately scrolled down to Harold and poked the box next to his face. A screen then popped up that read, "VOTE HAS BEEN CAST SUCCESSFULLY."

I looked over at Duncan's. His had he same screen.

"Harold?" I whispered.

"Yeah. Same with you?" he replied. I nodded in response.

We both looked up. Chef walked across the stage in regular clothes (not his scary pink dress) holding the results of voting. Chris immediately grasped it and opened the envelope.

"First award goes towards Duncan." He picked up the award and tossed it in his direction. I backed off so my face wouldn't get struck by a flying chunk of Belgian chocolate.

"Second award goes to…LeShawna." He then threw LeShawna her award.

I stared. I felt safe knowing that LeShawna would never vote for me – and Duncan wouldn't dare kick me off.

"The final award goes towards…Harold."

Duncan and I were absolutely shocked while Harold was evidently relieved. Who the fuck voted for me?! If LeShawna voted for me, then Duncan voted for someone else – probably LeShawna, over that whole aspic situation.

Before Chris threw the award, he said, "Ha ha! God damn, you should've seen the looks on your faces…_priceless_."

I glared at him until he finished his statement, "Yeah…just kidding, you crazy kids…the final award goes to Gwen."

He tossed the award at me, while the tables turned – Duncan and I wore expressions of relief while Harold was clearly astonished.

He stood up and as he walked across the carpet, LeShawna called after, "Wait up, scrawny!"

She immediately wrapped her arms around him and exclaimed, "I'll miss you, boy."

"I'll miss you, too, sugar!" he exclaimed, ecstatic that LeShawna showed some affection for him.

That's until she went, "Excuse me?"

"I mean…see you later, Shawnie." He sighed. I felt a tinge of guilt. He pretty much lost everything today – the competition, the money, and he found out his love interest didn't care for him that much anymore. I felt terrible.

After a short pause, she said, "Aw, that's okay!" and hugged him tighter.

Well, he didn't lose everything, at least.

"Um, well, that's it, I suppose. Tune in next time for the Aftermath!" Chris announced, and then left the stage.

Duncan and I stood up when I asked, "So. Laundry room or woods?"

Duncan thought for a moment until he said, "Woods."

I nodded, and we continued to walk.

I arrived at the forest, and spotted Duncan.

"Oh, hey there." I greeted them.

"Hey," he responded. "You know earlier today when I said Trent wasn't listening to reason?"

I looked at him, confused. "Yeah, why?"

"The reason we lost is pretty much my fault."

"…what happened?!"

"He asked if I could set you two up again."

"Gross."

"I know."

"So you said 'no'?"

"I told him you didn't like him anymore, not even as a friend, and he got pissed and left."

"So…technically, you threw the challenge for me."

"Yup."

I then hugged him and said, "I love you so fucking much, Duncan."

"I love you, too."

I then kissed him, and each kiss became longer than the last until we were pretty much making out until we tipped off the log we were sitting on.

"Dammit!" Duncan exclaimed.

I sat up and asked, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, sure, sure." he reassured me.

Then, I heard footsteps. I gently shoved Duncan away from me and pulling my iPod out while fixing my ruffled hair up.

"Holy shit, someone's coming, holy _shit_…" I freaked out, handing Duncan and ear bud. He quickly took it and stuffed it in his ear while the sound of the footsteps gradually got louder and louder.

I looked up. Trent was holding his guitar by the fret board, carrying it through the path.

He stared at Duncan and I as we were listening to my iPod.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, the base of his guitar now lying on the grass.

After a pause, I innocently answered, "Listening to music."

"Oh," he said, as he proceeded to sit on the log and begin tuning his guitar. "I found this place ages back. I come here to practice songs, riffs…'n stuff..."

I shifted away from him as Duncan said, "Well, we come here to escape the fucking crazies back at the trailers."

Nevertheless, I stood up and said, "Sorry to bother you, Trent. I think I should be on my way."

I grabbed Duncan's wrist and simply walked the path out.

As we were out of the woods, Duncan asked, "Do you think he's really stalking you?"

"Dear God, I hope that 'I found this place a while back' shit isn't an excuse." I gulped. Trent was fucking _creepy_. I didn't want – nor need – a James-Blunt-wannabe following me wherever I go. In a matter of time, he'll be writing fucking love songs, poems, and everything else.

I looked around and sighed, "Let's go to the laundry room. I guess that's our new spot until Elvis leaves."

We walked towards the laundry room and locked the door. After a short pause, I said, "This sucks."

"I know," Duncan said. "Trent better get his ass out of there before I fucking kick it out."

I smiled. "Oh. You're dedicated."

"Of course."

I grabbed the comforter and laid it on the washer. "The one place that we could have some time together is _infiltrated._ This is the worst thing to happen in North America since 9/11."

"I know," he said, lying on the blanket.

"I'm finding some place else. Somewhere quiet, soft, and isolated from the rest of this goddamned set."

"Now?"

"Tomorrow."

"Okay. Cool."

I leaned on him, sighed, and told him, "G'night. See you tomorrow."

"See you."


	42. Ch42: Day Off

I woke up to Duncan gently poking my shoulder saying, "Gwen, it's like, eight o'clock. Wake up."

I hopped up and said, "Hi."

He grinned, and I immediately asked, "Are they serving breakfast today?"

"Yeah, I guess," he inferred, and added, "it's probably some toxic shit like the damn aspic."

"Dear God," I shivered. Bone marrow boiled down to a jelly…it still horrified me. "Do you want to head on there?"

He mulled this over for a split second and quickly replied, "Okay."

I got up and opened the door for Duncan and we both left the room. I looked at my pajamas – black-and-gray plaid pajama pants with a grey Eagles shirt my uncle got me for my birthday (even though I dislike football). I was too lazy to get dressed, but I didn't want to walk out looking like a slob. I simply got dressed in black sweatpants, grey-and-black checkered Vans, and I left on my Eagles shirt. Just so the shirt didn't look baggy and fat, I borrowed (well, _stole_) one of Lindsay's ponytail holders so the shirt was more tight-fitting. I also wore a teal leather bracelet with my name imprinted in it, just to add some sort of feminine charm to my fat suit.

I spotted the Mess Hall, and started walking. Inside, we were apparently eating scrambled eggs. I grabbed a plate with some burnt bacon on the side with toast – no, it was bread. Just bread they were too lazy to cook.

I saw Duncan, and joined him after he got his food, and sat down. We were as far away from Creepy Stalker Kid (that's his new name…Creepy Stalker Kid.) as we could.

I pressed my fork against the scrambled eggs. I heard a series of crunching noises, until I realized they were too fucking lazy to take out the shells.

I ate the bacon – I took a bit and immediately lost interest. I even tried fucking catsup. It spiced it up a bit – not much, but…did a little something.

I ate that, and ate the bread the way it was. I didn't bother toasting it more.

"Well," I judged, "it's better than the aspic."

"I'm still sorry about that," LeShawna said. She apologized a lot about the aspic – it was gross, yet she was still looking out for me so I didn't throw up again with another pregnancy scare.

"It's fine, you can stop apologizing." I excused her. "Leave the past in the past."

She nodded and went back to eating her food.

I looked over at Creepy Stalker Kid. He was eating his eggs without a care in the world – it made me want to vomit.

After a long pause, Duncan randomly said, "I hate Trent so fucking much."

"What a stalker…" LeShawna murmured.

I was surprised at that. "Thank God! Somebody else sees it, too!"

She laughed and said, "I'd keep my distance from him, girl. He's probably writing some love song for you…"

"O-oh, dear." I stuttered, somewhat scared. Until, somewhat relieved, I answered, "I don't think he likes me anymore, though."

"The keyword there is '_think'_," Duncan commented. "The only way you can really know is if you confront him. And we all know you're not going to do that."

"Yes. I refuse to talk to him."

"Exactly."

I stared at my meal. "Well, I'm not going to eat anything else. See you guys later…I'm going spot-hunting."

A perplexed LeShawna asked, "What?"

"Spot-hunting," Duncan clarified. "We used to have this place in the woods where we met, and Trent stole the damn place."

"How?!"

"He was there last night. He said he used it to 'practice riffs'."

"Dear Lord."

"I know."

I smiled. This was just _pleasant_. My boyfriend and my best friend were actually getting along and agreeing on something.

It wasn't something to build a whole new friendship on. But it was a start.

I grabbed my tray, threw the food down the trash, and left.

I walked in the woods for a good ten minutes – quietly humming "The Celler Door" by Escape the Fate to myself, and looked around. I walked so far, I reached the outer walls of the set. I put my hand on the brick wall. The sun warmed it for hours, and I felt the hot rock warm my hand.

I walked around the border – and eventually found a patch of dirt. I put my hand on it, and held it up to the light.

Muddy. This will not do.

I kept walking on, until I saw a trailer – balancing on cinder blocks – in the distance. I weaved through the trees and stepped over the bugs that dwelled in the fallen leaves.

I tried the door. It was locked.

"Damn it," I muttered, and looked in the window. There was an intern in there – fast asleep. Once again – _damn it_.

After four more minutes of searching, I pretty much lost all hope.

That would be until I found a small patch of dry dirt – maybe I could put a blanket or something, so we didn't have to get all filthy – that could work out.

Only I needed a good map so we could get here easily each night in the dark. I decided to take pictures of landmarks along the path from here out to the area behind the boy's trailer (that was where my new path would start…or end. Whichever direction you're coming from).

I spotted a tree shaped like a fork. The thing is, a majority of them are shaped this way. I dug through my pockets – maybe I'll find something that could help me mark the tree.

I started searching through my pockets when I found a pen, a peppermint, and – thank goodness - one of Duncan's pocketknives.

No clue how it got there, but it helped the situation greatly. I carved a deep, huge, noticeable square into the wood, and did this with multiple trees. Now when you're walking, all you had to do was look or feel for the squares. It was like Braille…with only one character.

I am a _genius_. Now, whether in dark or light, you can easily see where the path is.

I came out behind the boy's trailer and proudly carved the last square in the bark. I folded up the knife, put my hands on my hips, and sighed in pride.

Around this time, the cast was leaving the Mess Hall. I spotted Duncan and handed him the knife.

"…where'd you get my knife?" He asked, puzzled.

"No clue, but thank God I had it." I said. "I carved a series of squares into the trees, all leading to a new spot…one that Joe Jonas over there will have a hard time trying to find."

"Well, to be safe, you should carve other shapes elsewhere," Duncan proposed, "in case he really is stalking you. He'll get mixed up."

I grabbed the knife again and nodded, "Good idea."

I then drew a series of circles leading to the outer walls, octagons leading to the original spot, and triangles leading to that guy's trailer.

It looked like some sort of mysterious alien-ish act. Thank God Harold wasn't here anymore, or he'd be all over it.

I came back, and covered my forefinger and thumb with my sleeve, wiping the wood chips and pieces of bark from the blade.

I folded the knife back up, and examined my sleeve. Thankfully, the blade didn't slice the sleeve. Or my hand.

I returned it to Duncan, and said, "Okay. How about we meet at…eight forty-five? The sun will be down by then."

"Sounds good." He nodded. We then sat down, and started talking.

"If you don't mind answering," I asked, "what did you see in Courtney, anyway?"

He was silent for a moment. Seemed like an hour. "…I think I just liked morphing her into a rebel…and…that's it."

"So all of that 'she's hot' stuff was bullshit?"

"…her hair's nice."

"And that's it?"

"…pretty much."

"Interesting."

He then turned the tables on me and questioned, "Now, darling, what did you ever see in Trent?"

I blushed at the word "darling". I never heard it used as a term of endearment since I watched _Sweeney Todd_. I heard it used by the homosexual designers on _Project Runway_, however ("That dress is just _fabulous_, darling!").

Well, Duncan usually used the term sarcastically. However, it didn't sound facetious.

"I used to think he was talented," I said, "whenever somebody says, 'I play an instrument', I immediately think of a talented person. Sometimes they impress you, and sometimes they let you down."

"And?"

"Trent was a huge letdown…I was expecting him to go all out, totally shredding this flying-V guitar with flames at his feet…"

Duncan was chuckling under his breath when I said, "I'm serious, you know."

He looked up at me. "I know you're serious. It's still hilarious."

"Well, being a kind soul, I decided not to dump him just for that. I'm not judgmental."

"You're not…hey, just asking…what kind of music does he like? Like, he's never clear with it. Usually, he talks about his own music…"

After a short pause, he asked, "Is he a total douchebag about his music? Does he like, brag about it?"

"No, never does. On the account of taste, I'm guessing…the Rolling Stones?"

"Never liked them."

"Me neither. He never liked my music, either. So I'm guessing what he likes is the total opposite of my interest.

"He never liked the Beatles?"

"Guess not."

"Wow. That's usually…an impossibility."

"Oh, I know!"

This carried on for a while until Lindsay came over and sat on the ground. After an awkward silence, I asked, "…may we help you?"

"Yes! You _can_ help me!" she exclaimed. "I'm _so friggin' bored_!!"

"…that's…too bad?" Duncan said in a discomfited tone.

"With Beth gone, and Justin ignoring me, and Omar with his jaw wired, and LeShawna all adsorbed (yes, she mispronounced _absorbed_) in her music…ugh, I have NO ONE to talk to!"

"That's…too bad?" he repeated again.

"I KNOW!" she exclaimed. "There's nobody to talk to…and I've already repainted my nails about twelve kajillion times…" – she extended her hands to show her nails – "…and I've already fixed myself totally up! And now I'm super pretty and there's _nobody to share it with_!"

"What about Trent?" I proposed.

"He's practicing some emo-y lullaby! IT'S SO BORING!"

"…sucks." I said. I sighed, and thought, _I hope she leaves soon. Very, very, _very_ soon._

Her expression lifted, and she asked, "So? Whatcha talking about?"

"…stalkers." Duncan answered. After all, it's true.

"…okay."

He then turned to me. "What's up with his shirt?"

"I have no idea, dude." I answered. "I don't know what a handprint is supposed to signify."

Lindsay simply sat there, listening in. Her eyes then widened. "Prince!"

I stared. "What does Prince have to do with this?"

"A symbol is Prince!"

"No," Duncan sighed. This girl was impossible. "_Symbol: The Artist Formerly Known as Prince_ is Prince. _A symbol_ is just a character in general."

She stared, befuddled. Duncan spelled it out: "Shirt symbol no Prince?"

Lindsay looked up at the sky, trying to plug this all in her head, when she said, "Ohh. I get it!"

She looked at her watch – pink, decorated with diamonds – and exclaimed, "Holy crepes! Time for bed…"

She then said, "If you go to bed at seven forty _precisely_, and wake up at six in the morning, you will prevent bags under your eyes and look as fresh as a orange, ripe from the patch!"

"…oranges don't grow in patches." I corrected her.

"Oh, well, excuse me, _Produce Pete_."

She then got up and skipped to the communal washroom. I looked over at Duncan. He then said, "…yeah, I don't get it either."


	43. Ch43: Return of the Devil

**A/N: I wrote a new story…it's called "A Different Scene". It got no reviews, so I feel shitty…oh! I finally found a picture of aspic on the Internets!!! It actually looks delectable!! .org/wiki/Aspic**

I came to the beginning of the new path. I shined the light of my iPod on the tree. I saw a square, and followed the path to the dirt patch, laying a comforter on top of it. It didn't have a log to serve as a seat like the last one – sucked, hm? – and kneeled down. I could hear Trent's guitar in the distance. I looked down at the blanket until I looked up in the distance. I saw Duncan, his fingertips scanning the bark for the square on a tree.

I walked up towards him in the dark, and in a sneak attack, I grabbed his wrist and dragged him closer to me, leading him into a kiss.

"Lost?" I asked afterwards.

"…no," he lied.

I smiled, knowing of his lie, and led him towards the patch.

"Ta-da!" I exclaimed.

He grinned. "Nice. How'd you find this place?"

"I wandered."

"We're lucky you found it, babe."

I grinned. Every cute little name he called me melted my heart into honey (nice metaphor, am I right?).

I dragged him closer and simply kissed him. This comforter was a good idea – it was fluffy and comfortable. Better than grass, yet less comfortable than a bed.

I was soon on his lap, still kissing him – soon came the tongue, then the stripping. I was totally engrossed in this. Soon enough, Duncan stopped kissing me, and to substitute, I started kissing his neck. He removed that choker-thing, revealing a healing gash on the side of his neck. It sent some odd, dead feeling inside me. All I knew is that I had to eliminate that sense.

"…I think Elvis heard us." He gasped. That caught my attention. I put my shirt back on, and then my pajama pants. He did the same and we simply sat up, my hands on Duncan's shoulder. I was pressed up close to him, while listening to Trent – and trying to get past the trees to see what he was doing.

He was standing up, looking around. He then said, "Well, that's enough for tonight…"

He then left the patch and walked towards the guy's trailer. I sighed of relief and looked back up at Duncan. He was gently and slowly rubbing my back. Feeling safe, we both fell back down to the floor, and I was sitting on his lap again.

He ran his fingertips from the ends of my hair, down the back of my neck, and down my spine, making me jump. As his hand glided down my leg, he pulled down my pajama bottom. My own fingers snaked down to the bottom of his shirt, and I then stopped kissing him for a second to take it off. He grinned in pleasure, as his hand slinked up my leg again, this time taking my shirt up along with it.

I then took off his pajama pants, and his hand slid down my side again, this time slowing at my ass, somewhat goosing it, and stopping all together at my thigh. He then hitched my legs around his waist and started kissing me harder.

I, honestly, did not know when to stop. It was far too perfect. Apparently a beetle did, though – it crawled up my back in the middle of the session.

I stopped kissing him to yelp and swat the bug off of me.

"Damn roach!" I hissed, and soon recollected myself and went back to kissing him.

We finally quit after seven minutes. After some conversation, we fell asleep…and woke up to the worst day of our lives.

Okay. Let's skip to after breakfast. Owen got his jaw unwired…and then was kidnapped. So was LeShawna.

Apparently, today's theme was bank heist. And we had to save the person on our team that was kidnapped.

Duncan and I simply ran towards the huge locked door. I didn't know lock-hacking. I didn't even have a weapon of some sort to bust through.

I spent a minute or two kicking the vault.

I didn't succeed. Duncan then turned to me and said, "…you don't have to unlock her at the moment."

"But I need to," I told him. "She's one of my best friends…come on."

"We'll get her out later, come on!"

He then dragged me to the checkpoint where Chris said, "Well, okay. It's pretty much you two against everyone else, so…let's move on, shall we?"

I nodded, and we then learned that part two of our three-part challenge was to set up an actual heist.

Duncan looked through the guy's cabin when he exclaimed, "Aha!"

He grabbed two of Justin's tight, black, V-neck shirts. He made them into ski masks, and gave on to me. I fit it on.

"Wow," I nodded. "You're pretty good at this."

"Thanks." He nodded, and said, "Well, he need weapons. Any ideas?"

"Your pocketknife, and…check underneath Harold's old bunk."

"Why?"

"Just do it."

He lifted the mattress, and to his surprise, found a crossbow. "Whoa."

"Yeah, he keeps a few of his 'World of Warcraft' weapons under his bunk."

"How'd you know?"

"Honestly, I guessed."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah."

He took the crossbow and said, "Cheapass kid only has one."

"Then, can I have the pocketknife?"

"Why?"

"I'll make a shank."

He stared. "Wouldn't it be easier to use the knife as a weapon rather than a stake? I mean, the knife is sharper and shinier and appears more threatening…"

"Yeah, yeah, you're right." I took the knife, and held it up in the light. It was, indeed, shiny, sharp, and scary. I folded it back up and said, "Don't we need something to carry the money out in?"

"Yeah. Get two pillowcases, that should be enough."

I nodded and took all of Trent's pillowcases, and then took his pillows and hid them under Harold's old bunk.

"What did you do that for, exactly?" Duncan asked.

"Because I hate him."

"Oh. Right."

We then left and walked towards the bank scene.

"Okay, Gaffers, you made it here first. Go in there…and heist…some….banks." Chris said, and stepped aside so we could enter.

The teller was somebody unrecognizable – she had long blonde hair, skin tanned so much she looked almost Hispanic, and her nails were manicured perfectly.

"So? How do we get her to crack?" I asked.

"Bank tellers aren't usually stupid. However, sometimes, they fall for sex appeal."

I punched him in the arm and hissed, "You are _not_ flirting with that girl!"

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not saying I like her. It's just taking one for the team, alright?"

I sighed. "Fine. Fine. Go."

He walked up and told her, "This is a hold-up. I would like it if you used your pretty little hands to fill this sack with _cold. Hard. Cash._"

I rolled my eyes. Wasn't as bad as I thought it was going to be, but…still.

Oh, God. I sound like those jealous girls in those bad 80's family sitcoms where the girl is mad at the guy because he's talking to some girl she didn't know, and in a weird turn of events, the other woman is actually his cousin who he is just showing around, and the girl is like, "Oh. I'm sorry. I still love you, though" and everything is all good again.

That was probably the longest sentence ever – but that's exactly how I felt.

"Oh, sure…" she then removed her wig to show short, brown hair and then turned around.

_It was Courtney_.

Holy shitake mushrooms. This was bad. This was really, really, _really_ bad.

Duncan turned a color that I couldn't really give a name for – it was paler than white. He looked absolutely shocked, and I'm positive that I shared the same expression.

"…Gwen…why don't you take this?" he asked, slowly backing up. Once he was behind me, he poked me towards the desk.

"Um…" I bit my lip and simply unfolded the knife. "…give me the money or I'll cut you?"

She looked over at Duncan and asked, "…you're on Duncan's team, right?"

"Yeah." I nodded.

The Grips then ran in with Owen, eating what seemed to be…rubble. Yes – he was so hungry, he was eating debris from a fallen building.

She then motioned me to give her the empty pillowcase. I did so, and she filled it to the rim with dollar bills. "Go crazy. You two win."

I walked up to Duncan and simply high-fived him until my face turned absolutely white. "Oh, shit! We need to get LeShawna out of the vault!"

"I don't think we can now," Duncan sighed. "We'll hold up until afterwards."

Chris walked in and said, "Congratulations, Gaffers. You win an advantage in the final portion of the challenge. As for the Grips, I must congratulate you as well – you get Courtney on your team."

I almost fainted at this point. No. _She could not be back_.

"But she lost," I protested, "She can't come back. You said after one has lost the post-season special, they cannot come back to win any more money."

"Well, Courtney has set up a lawsuit, and we agreed to let her back if she promised not to sue." Chris explained. "And so…poof. Here she is."

I sighed and mumbled, "Whatever."

She walked over towards the Grips and as Chris turned to the camera to explain the challenge to the home-viewing audience, I noticed Courtney flirtatiously waving towards Duncan.

He waved once back towards in acknowledgement when Duncan leaned in towards me and begged, "Help me."

"I know, right?" I replied.

That's when Courtney's expression dropped. "So, wait. I'm not on the Gaffers?"

"That's correct."

"So I'm a _consolation prize_?!"

"That's the idea in a nutshell."

She growled, and crossed her arms.

"Now that you've robbed the bank, you have to make your getaway. Outside are your getaway vehicles. Why don't we go there now?"

Chris then led the two groups to the outdoors. And sitting there was a flawless red Porsche vehicle.

"Oh. My. _God_." Duncan grinned, absolutely amazed. "We get to drive that?!"

Chris laughed. "No, that's mine. There are your cars."

He pointed to a pile of greasy, used car parts and wrenches. Duncan sighed.

"So…you guys go on and build your doom buggies…" he motioned, and left.

I stared at the pile. "I have no clue how to build a car."

"My brothers and I used to dismantle them all the time," he said, twirling a wrench between his fingers. "We usually stole shit from people's cars and sold them to an auto shop for extra cash…"

"You're a very nice person," I said sarcastically.

"Why, thank you."

So, we spent the next two hours trying to put together this car. He looked at the car frame, then usually asked me for the tools or the parts – it's like those hospital dramas where the operator usually yells, "Scalpel!" and the nurse immediately hands him one…it's _exactly_ like that.

The Grips finished their car first under the direction of Courtney ("HEIL COURTNEY!"), and we finished about ten minutes later. After we finished, I left really quick to go try to get LeShawna out. I came to no avail.

"…this thing's all ready to go, right?" I asked.

"Yeah, it's running perfectly." He nodded.

"Okay."

We slowly drove the car to the starting line – we didn't want to waste the small amount of petroleum we had to fuel the car – and sat there.

"Okay…let's kick their ass once and for all," I said, "because we're two people short of this game."

He nodded, gripped the wheel, and looked straight forward. "…I can't see a finish line."

"Maybe there is none?" I guessed.

"There has to be, if this is a race."

I looked forward. Chef wore a striped referee shirt, black pants, and a visor. He stood in a platform with a flag.

"One lap, one winner, and he will take all," he said. He raised the flag over his head, and Duncan tightened his grip on the wheel. "And…go."

Once he lowered the flag, both teams immediately took off. Courtney's buggy took off at a blazing speed. I stared, almost in tears.

"We're _never_ catching up!" I exclaimed.

"No, they're not." Duncan smiled mischievously.

I stared. "Why?"

He pointed towards the ground. A small trail of gasoline was on the asphalt. I looked at him and exclaimed, "You shot out their gas tank?!"

"You know that time when you left to go the vault to try to get LeShawna out?"

"Yeah?"

"Shot it out then."

"That's unbelievably awesome! I love you!"

"You, too."

"Hey, you know that costume shop?"

"Yeah?"

"You're going to crash into it."

He turned to the road again, and shouted, "SHIT!"

We crashed through a shitload of costumes. I pulled the articles away from my face and said, "Keep going!"

He did, and we saw the Grips only four feet away from the finish line.

"Oh, shit, shit, shit, shit…" Duncan whispered to himself, until their car stopped. We sped by them, and won.

If it weren't for Duncan's tank-shooting idea, we would've been screwed.

Courtney stared at her car. "Oh, that's just freaking great!"

Trent looked at the car. "Dude, this thing wastes more gas than a Hummer…"

"Okay, Grips. It seems you are the day's losers. Tonight, anyone is up for elimination – except for Courtney."

"What?" Justin asked. "I thought every elimination was fair game."

"Look, I just don't want to get sued, okay?" Chris said and turned back to us. "Okay…you…two are safe. Aren't there three of you?"

"Yeah, on that note, can I have the key to the vault to get LeShawna out?" I asked.

"Uh, sure…" he nodded, reaching in his pocket for the key. He threw it in my direction. "Go crazy."

"Thanks," I muttered, and walked off to the vault when he called, "Oh. You guys also have a reward to go along with the invincibility."

That caught Duncan's attention. "Go on?"

Chris threw a sack of money towards us. Duncan caught it and said, "This is _fucking awesome_."

Chris snickered and said, "Don't mention it."

I ran towards the vault, quickly unlocked it and hugged LeShawna.

"Oh my God, I'm _so _sorry! We couldn't figure out the code or find the key, and Owen, like, _ate _his way out, and oh, Jesus, I'm _so sorry!_" I apologized.

"It's cool," she said. "Being locked up for hours with nothing to do _sort _of pissed me off, but…know what? Whatever! People screw up once in a while, right?"

She was shockingly okay about this. Maybe it's because I forgave her about the aspic? Possibly.

On the way out of the vault, she asked, "So, did we win?"

Duncan held up a dollar from the bag and asked, "Does this help the answer?"

He handed her the dollar and said, "Why is Chris's face on the money?"

"Say what?" his expression darkened.

She read aloud, "'Chris-ency: Redeemable for an Extra Serving of One Chicken and Egg Aspi—', are you kidding me?!"

I took the dollar, and examined it. My Lord, she was right. I slowly and gently ripped it straight down the middle.

"Fuck aspic," I muttered and threw the remains of the dollar up in the air.


	44. Ch44: Fuck Twilight

**A/N: Here is the vampire challenge I promised so many eons ago!!!**

I walked to the dirt spot at nine o'clock, precisely. First time I saw Duncan, I immediately wrapped my arms around him. "We're fucking dead!"

He stared at me. "Why?"

"Neither Trent…_nor_ Courtney got eliminated! Owen! Owen was the only one here I could _stand_ besides you and LeShawna! And Courtney got his ass our because of her _damn contract_!"

He held me closer. "Try to keep it down, someone's going to hear…"

I buried my face in his chest and said, "Whatever! I'm just fucking mad!"

He then gently shoved my face closer to his to kiss me. He soon stopped and said, "You really, really have to talk lower."

I smiled, and began kissing him some more. After a while, we both fell asleep.

I woke up to Duncan's annoying, annoying watch. I slammed his watch.

He slightly clenched his teeth and said, "You missed my watch."

"Shit!" I exclaimed. "I'm sorry!"

"It's okay, it's okay…" he sat up and said, "We should get ready…"

I nodded and got up. "Love you. See you later."

He got up after me and said, "You, too."

I began walking to the trailer. Once I got in, Courtney was on her bunk, arms crossed. LeShawna was looking at the ground, biting her lip.

Courtney asked, "And where have you been, missy?"

"Drinking," I said sarcastically and grabbed my sketchbook. As she was ranting on why it isn't okay to run away from the trailer, I was sketching her. I added her in a hellish scene with stalagmites, stalactites, and fire. Lots and lots of fire.

I even gave her devil horns.

"…and if you've been out with Trent, maybe even Justin…" she continued as I zoned back in.

"You forgot Duncan," LeShawna pointed out.

Courtney's mouth gaped open. "If you come close to even _touching _Duncan, I swear, I will kick your butt into _next week!_"

"We're just friends." I lied. I then murmured, "…paranoid bitch."

She, thankfully, didn't hear me.

"Good," she said, and started using her Blackberry.

"You could bring your cell?" I asked.

"Part of the contract."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

When it was time to be prepared, I wore a tight-fitting, black Green Day "21st Century Breakdown" shirt with grunge-y skinny jeans and white Converse sneakers.

I walked outside and to the Mess Hall. I had to conjure up a plan to get both Courtney and Trent out of here.

It wouldn't be easy, but I would do anything to get them out of here.

I looked at the breakfast today. They served individual boxes of cereal. I took a box of Frosted Mini Wheats and got a carton of milk. I sat down, and just as I was about to pour the milk, I checked the expiration date.

_Wow_. This was actually unexpired. I poured it into the bowl, and started eating. Duncan then came in, sat next to me and said, "Hello, darling."

I smiled. "Hi."

After not even a minute of conversation, Courtney walked in, grabbed Corn Flakes, milk, and sat down between us.

"Hi…" she smiled as she looked towards Duncan, and glared when she turned to me. "…you two."

Duncan got up and sat between us. He turned to Courtney and said, "Gwen's my best friend. You're not shutting her out."

She looked at me, and then turned back to her food. "I see."

I turned to Duncan and asked, "So, what do you think our challenge is today?"

"Hopefully it's not totally stupid."

"We're hopeful."

Then, Chris entered, his skin totally chalk-white, with red irises (probably done with some sort of contacts).

Nobody was really paying attention until he exclaimed, "BLAHH! I vant to suck your blood!"

I slowly turned back towards my cereal.

"Today's challenge…is vampirism!" he exclaimed.

I buried my face in my hands. "No! No _Twilight_! I'm not playing _Twilight_ role-play!"

Lindsay coiled her arms around Justin's arms and said, "I call Bella if you're Edward!"

Justin shook her off of his arm. Her expression grew despondent.

Courtney shrugged and turned towards Duncan. "I'll be Bella? And you're Edward?"

"No," Duncan shook his head. "I don't play secretly homosexual vampires."

"Then I'll be Renesme, and you'll be Jacob."

"Where the hell does that woman get these names?" I asked myself.

She turned towards me and said, "For your information, 'Renesme' is a mixture between the names Esme and Renee, which are both the mothers in the couple."

"It's still a stupid name."

Courtney clenched her teeth and turned to Duncan. Her expression lightened, and she asked, "Hon? Would you name your child Renesme? I mean, it's clever."

"It sounds like a Russian village." He said.

I couldn't help but smirk.

"Okay! Let's go to the woods for your first challenge!" he announced.

I bit my lip – I did that often, resulting in a slightly sore bottom lip – and looked down. I forgot to take the comforter out.

Before we left, Chris announced, "This is an individual reward challenge. So, this place is going to be divided between vampires and humans. The humans are Lindsay, Trent, and Gwen…the vampires are Justin, Courtney, LeShawna, and Duncan. Vampires try to strike the mortals. Humans, do whatever you can to save your lives."

I rolled my eyes. Come _on_ – this was Twilight. The worst event that ever happened in this franchise is when Taylor Lautner put his shirt back on.

As we walked to the woods, I told Duncan, "Team up with Courtney."

He stared. "Are you fucking insane?"

"It's all part of this plan I'm setting up. Don't ask about it, just…just team up with her."

"What if she drags me somewhere and tries to make out with me?"

"Tell her it's unprofessional."

"Okay?"

"She's all for professionalism."

"Right."

"And Duncan?"

"Yeah-huh?"

"Two minutes after the challenge starts, walk towards the patch of grass."

"…okay?"

I nodded, and then walked towards Trent. "You want the reward, right?"

"Whatever it might be, yes." He nodded.

"I'm sorry about what happened before. I'm willing to put all that aside in order for us to work together and win this."

"What's the catch?"

I shrugged. "No catch. Just…do your part, I'll do mine, and we'll both leave victorious."

He nodded. "Sure. Sure, let's go for it."

I nodded, and walked further into the wood.

An announcement came over that said, "Okay…on your marks…get set…go!"

I randomly began running in pretty much circles. After I could plainly tell he was tired out, I began (pretending) to gasp for breath.

"Shit…oh my God, we have to sit down…" I said, still trying to catch my breath.

"Oh…okay…" he agreed, and we both sat down on the log.

We sat there, panting, until Duncan and Courtney approached.

"I being Rosalie, I thank you, Emmett," she complimented him, "for finding us Michael and Jessica."

Duncan turned to her and asked, "Seriously – who the fuck are you talking about?!"

She rolled her eyes and said, "I'll choose the easier one…Michael."

She approached Trent. I stood there, my arms crossed with a daring smirk on my face.

"Are you going to 'bite' me or what?" I asked Duncan.

"Well, if that's what it comes to." He said sardonically, and approached me. I didn't do anything.

I glanced over at Trent. He was in some sort of minor brawl with Courtney (they both sucked at fighting, and it resulted in the funniest thing I have ever witnessed). He tried twisting her arm, until she pushed a spot in his neck that made him weak in the knees.

I shrugged and turned back towards Duncan. The smirk couldn't leave my face – it was drawn in permanent marker.

As he leaned down to bite my neck, I quickly moved my head in order for his lips to meet mine instead.

This was so fucking _amazing_. This was probably the worst idea ever – manipulating sappy Trent and ruthless Courtney to come and witness this. But, at least they'd leave us alone from now on. And besides, Courtney would never disagree with Duncan – not even if he told her she just isn't right for him.

I felt like a slight bitch. But I felt like a slight bitch that was in love. After two weeks, I was in _love_. Things were being totally rushed…I feel as if I've known Duncan for years when I've only known him for about half of a summer.

Still. This was pure awesomeness.

He was totally resistant at first until he realized that this was no accident – this was my devilish plan all along – and started kissing me back.

I hoped the cameras got that kiss. I seriously, seriously hope they did. I could already hear Michelle screaming, "THAT'S MY WHORE!" from her living room couch, and I could hear Marilyn's thumbs quickly pressing the keyboard of her phone, texting everybody in her contacts.

Until I remembered my mother is probably watching. And teachers. And every other parental figure that could hold an on-screen make-out session against me. I kept the kiss short and non-slutty.

I stopped kissing him. I glanced at Trent and Courtney. Courtney was gone, and Trent was staring.

"I…I have no idea what to say right now." He admitted. "Therefore…I'm just going to…go…somewhere."

As he walked off, Duncan turned to me and said, "…I think that's code for 'cut himself'."

I couldn't do anything but smile and hug him. Of course, people would find this staged. I couldn't help but know that. Still – they didn't know the truth about what happened when the sun went down and the cameras shut off.

**A/N: OKAY, lucky news for you guys – I was considering cutting the story right here…but I'm not. Hooray for writing for four more months of writing. XD**


	45. Ch45: Sweet Freedom

**A/N: I have a question: Would a "Corpse Bride" and "TDI" Crossover be…I dunno, **_**interesting**_**? I've been working on this shit for a while…I dunno whether to scrap it or publish it. :\**

Well, it was after the challenge at this point. Duncan and I stuck side-by-side the whole time, even though we were supposed to be going against each other.

Earlier, the third challenge was – thankfully – not _Twilight_ in the least. It was to design a vampiric outfit. We were provided with costumes to rip apart and sew back together into various looks. We were also given fake blood leftover from the slayer challenge to add a frightening element to the outfit. I just took a suit, stained it with blood, and got a cape to finish it off. As for Duncan – he grabbed the most tight-fitting, flamboyant thing he could find, stained it red, and called it "Edward Cullen Casual Wear".

Fortunately, we didn't win the trip to go see _New Moon_ early in a nearby movie theater with a guest of our choice. LeShawna won that, and took Lindsay to the cinema. Lindsay said the movie was romantic. LeShawna said the movie was worse than sticking your head in a gasoline-fueled bonfire.

She said that a portion of the movie was just Bella staring out a window after she was dumped. A very, very riveting scene.

Today, for the meal, was Chinese. I was eating my eggroll as Courtney approached Duncan, LeShawna and I to simply ask, "…for how long?"

"For how long _what_?" Duncan asked, clearly wanting to her to leave.

"How long were you thinking of breaking up with me?"

"I was thinking of dumping you since you dumped _me_ for the million, princess."

"It was _momentum_."

"No, I'm pretty sure that was bitchiness."

"You _know_ it was momentum. I couldn't risk my whole future while it was only a few feet away from me. Please."

"Even if this whole 'momentum' shit was true, I'm not going back with you. Ever."

She looked shocked. Offended, she crossed her arms and asked, "Why the hell not?!"

He stared, due to the obvious answer. He pointed towards me while I looked up at her and shyly waved, "…Hi."

She exhaled in frustration, and left, her hands balled into fists.

"Persistent little whore." I commented – even though Courtney wasn't a whore. I just liked the word…it had a pleasant ring to it.

I turned towards LeShawna. "Were you and Lindsay the only ones in the theater to see 'Homo Explosion'?"

"No, but I honestly wish we were." She said.

"Oh. The audience was that bad?"

"There were daddy's girls all around – probably paid top dollar just to be able to sit on the floor. The seats probably cost hundreds. They screamed when Edward came on, and they _swooned_ when that shirtless Indian boy showed up."

"Oh my God," Duncan said. "This _Twilight _ thing is taking over the fucking world."

After a pause, I asked LeShawna, "Did Lindsay scream when Edward came on?"

"Sadly." She sighed. "I think it triggered a migraine."

"That sucks," Duncan said. He was somewhat sorry for her – something I never, ever witnessed him do before.

"I think there's Tylenol in the medicine cabinet." I told her.

She sat up and said, "Thanks."

She then left, covering her forehead with her hand.

I looked over at Lindsay. She was modeling her new Edward Cullen shirt – it was light blue, with an outline of Edward on the front in a darker shade. In calligraphy, it read, "_I will be with you forever and always_. _–Edward Cullen_". Oh, _come on_. They were saying this like Edward Cullen is an actual person. And it wasn't even a profound quote, to say. I can accept quotes from _Romeo & Juliet_ and other classics, but not _Twilight_. Nobody is going to remember this little fable ten years from now, anyway.

After the Chinese, LeShawna spent her evening trying to fall asleep in her cabin. Trent was still practicing some sappy-sounding melody, Lindsay was _still_ telling Justin about _New Moon_ (Justin did not seem interested in the story, however), and Duncan and I spent the evening simply talking.

"Why did you pick _now_?" he asked. He was leaning against the girls' trailer, and I was leaning against his side, his arm around me.

"I couldn't take it anymore," I sighed. "Courtney pretty much locking herself next to you, Trent's creepy stalker activities...I couldn't stand it anymore. I had to do something fast. I couldn't watch it anymore."

He didn't say anything. He just hugged me. "Nice timing."

I got up at about nine o'clock that night to go back to the woods. I didn't know the future of that spot – I mean, the relationship isn't a secret anymore. I mean, everyone knows it – literally. _Everyone_ who owns a television – or YouTube – knows of our relationship.

One good thing came out of this – after the show is over, since the show goes thoroughly into your personal life here, my mother probably felt that meeting my boyfriend would be unnecessary.

The keyword there is "maybe". But it is a strong, strong possibility I hope for. My mom is, to put _somewhat_ politely, nosy. I lack privacy in my house – my mom always tries to get a hold of my phone, read my texts, preventing me from taking part in the "sexting" craze and whatnot. She feels that all the nascent technology coming into play is going to transform me into a fat, Goth slut. She is beyond wrong on all accusations.

I walked into the spot. The blanket was left as it was before – no tracks, no folded corners - Jesus, I'm lucky that nobody found it.

Duncan was already there – as usual. I finally asked, "Why are you always here early?"

"I'm not here early," he argued. "I'm on time. _You_ are late."

I rolled my eyes and laughed. "Whatever."

I sat next to lean, and leaned against him. He wrapped his arm around me, until I turned so my head could lean against his shoulder.

That's when I came up with an idea that could only be described as brilliance.

"Can we sneak out of here?" I asked, smiling excitedly.

"Permanently?" he asked.

I shook my head. "No, it's just for one night. We can walk around outside the borders for an hour or two, and sneak back. The walls are high, but we can hop them."

"Are they chain-link?"

"Brick."

"Is it neat brick?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, you know how red bricks tend to be polished and straight most of the time?"

"Yeah?"

"And rugged brick is like concrete – it has some stones in it, tends to be rough?"

"Oh! Yeah, it's rugged brick."

"Then let's climb it."

I excitedly sat up, grabbed his hand, and dragged him towards the outer wall.

"How about you climb first so you can pull me up?" I insisted. "You're stronger."

He nodded, and started climbing. Once he was on the other side, he extended his hand. "Come on!"

I grabbed his hands and he helped me up. I smiled. We were on the outside. We were free!...for a night.

We started walking around, until we arrived in a restaurant district in Toronto. It was a nice place to get food – good food, that is.

Duncan stopped at an ATM, and withdrew some money. For once, I felt like we were a free couple, and we weren't just rats locked in a cage. He looked around. "So? Where do you want to go?"

"Um…" I bit my lip. I spotted an Outback Steakhouse. "Oh. Outback?"

"Outback it is," he offered, and led me inside.


	46. Ch46: Dinner

Today was probably the best day ever to wear casual clothes rather than pajamas.

All the restaurants were open late due to a Blue Jays game that went into extra innings, and ended later than scheduled. They were expecting mad amounts of people going into eat.

Duncan and I got into Outback and were seated before all of the commotion started. Right now, there were mostly guys here finishing up their drinks at the bar since the game ended. I turned to Duncan and said, "Wow. It's been a while since I've actually been out, you know?"

"Yeah," he said, glancing around. He turned to the door, and laughed under his breath.

"What?" I asked.

"Look at the couple at the door…"

I sat up. It was some girl – mid twenties, perhaps – who wore aviator shades, a huge, (hopefully faux) fur coat, skinny jeans and Uggs.

All in the dead of summer.

She was holding hands with some guy who looked about thirty. His hair was slightly balding, and he wore some geek outfit. He was doing something on his iPhone.

I turned towards Duncan, smiling. I let out a small laugh and said, "Silly Canadians."

The server came with this small loaf of bread – it was pumpernickel, I suppose, since it's the only brown bread I know of – with a knife and small container of whipped butter. Just because we're so classy, we ripped the bread off of the loaf and dipped a bit of butter on it.

Slicing the bread and coating it with butter would take too much time. Soon after we got the bread, baseball fans were piling in. The staff was trying to rush tables to get the fans in, so the server soon came by and took the orders – I got a filet mignon with a salad, and Duncan got the same thing, except he got prime rib rather than the filet.

Soon after, he kept glancing at the door, people-watching again. I did, too. Soon, he was covering his mouth with his hands, trying to keep from laughing.

I smiled. "What's so funny?"

"Look at the blonde girl's shirt."

I sat up. At first I thought he was being perverted because the shirt showed a lot of skin. It was a plain white t-shirt, tied up to reveal her stomach. Writing was written in royal blue glitter glue. Mostly there were stars and hearts on it, while on the back in huge letters was: "I LOVE BJ's!"

I grabbed the napkin and bit it to keep from laughing _hysterically_. I knew what the real acronym was supposed to be, but still - that was probably the most pervertedly hilarious thing I've ever _seen_. In real life, that is. If I had my phone with me, I'd definitely consider sending this to Michelle.

After I calmed down, I said, "She could never wear that in the U.S."

He nodded. "I know…but it's like those things you see on the Internet. The stuff where you're like, 'Oh, that's funny, but it'll never happen' and it's actually true."

"It's an odd, perverted place out there, hon."

After some lighter – more _appropriate _ – conversation, the food finally came out. It looked like the commercials – the ones where they showed a juicy steak slowly being flipped on a grill. It looked absolutely mouth-watering.

We ate, still people-watching. We hoped for someone that could top BJ girl, but nobody could.

After we were done eating, Duncan paid the check and we left. Before we returned to hell, we went to Wawa, picked up multiple meal bars – the diet ones that made it seem like you ate a lot when you've only eaten a bar the size of a small remote control. We also stopped at a shopping mall and bought some stuff from Hot Topic – I bought a winter hat with the Tim Burton-version of the "Alice in Wonderland" cat. It was a light blue with yellow eyes and this long, creepy smile. Oh, and it had _ears_. They were cute, awesome ears. Duncan bought a Kurt Cobain shirt. Well, if you want to get technical, it was a _Rolling Stone_ shirt. It was the June 2, 1994 edition – the one covering Kurt Cobain's death.

"I've always wanted one of these," Duncan said, "but the store near me stopped selling them a while back."

As we walked, the plastic bags rustled at my feet. The lights reflected off of the water in the streets – apparently a pipe broke or something, and the neon lights illuminated the road.

I turned to Duncan and told him, "Honestly, this is the most fun I've had with someone in a while."

"Same here," he grinned. He then said, "Do you think we can just walk in the front gate of the set, or do we have to climb the wall again?"

"Climb the wall. Going in a gate with an alarm is too risky."

"Right."

We got to the set. Duncan left the Hot Topic bag he was carrying with me as he hopped the wall.

On the inside, he called, "Okay, pass them over!"

I hopped up, dropped the bags, and he exclaimed, "Okay, got 'em! Now come over!"

I hopped up. He grabbed my hands and pulled me over the wall.

I turned back to the brick fence and said, "Well, I say that was a successful escape."

He grinned. "We should really consider doing it again one day."

"Hopefully Courtney will be gone before then. I'm afraid she's probably going to follow me, trying to find some fault in me…"

"Out of spite?"

"Yeah, she's a girl who wants everything she wants. And she gets _brutal_ when she doesn't get something. And, of course, that something is you."

"I don't know why she likes – or liked – me, anyway. Opposites attract relationships are impossible outside of the filmmaking industry."

"That kiss behind the cabin was _momentum_," I said in a mocking tone.

He grinned. "Good mock, Gwen. Good mock."

"Thank you." I patted his head facetiously.


	47. Ch47: Bitch

**A/N: I now want a guitar taco. O_O So…so badly.**

I woke up to Duncan's watch beeping as he was gently twisting my hair between his fingers. Usually, somebody touching my hair would make me go insane. This was an exception.

"G'morning," he greeted me.

I looked up. "Oh, hi."

I sat up and put one of those meal-bars in my pocket. "I'm eating this right before breakfast."

He grabbed a bar as well and said, "Why not eat it _at_ breakfast?"

"Well, everyone's going to wonder where we got it. And what would we say?"

He paused for a bit. "Good point."

I checked his watch. "We should go in a minute."

He grinned playfully. "Not necessarily."

He stood up and helped me up. I looked at him, wondering what he's going to do. "What do you mean, 'not necessarily'?"

His fingertips rested on my shoulders for a moment before they slid down to my wrists – my heart was beating so fast, he could probably feel the pulse – when he pinned my wrists against the nearest tree and started kissing me.

When he loosened his grip on my wrists, I put my hands on his shoulders, and the palms of his hands met the bark of the tree.

After a few minutes, we stopped kissing. All I could say was, "That was nice."

He grinned and backed up so I could step away from the tree. I took a step away from the tree, smiled even wider, and started walking with him towards the trailers. When we got there, we went our separate ways into the trailer.

When I went inside, Courtney was, of course, sitting there, looking quite cross.

"And where were you? _All night_?" She demanded.

"Long story," I said, trying to think up of an excuse.

"I have time. Now explain to me why every time any of us woke up, _you_ were gone."

"I heard something rustle in the woods. I went there, tripped on a rock, and fell on a root."

"Good Lord!" LeShawna played along. "Why didn't you call for help?"

"I was too lazy to get up. Or scream. So I fell asleep." I shrugged.

Courtney looked at me, skeptical. "Wouldn't there be a mark on your head?" Like, a scar? Or at least a bruise?"

I shook my head. "It was fairly soft. Didn't leave a bruise. It was just red and stinging for a minute or two before it healed."

Courtney eyed me for a moment. "It's a believable story. But I still don't think it's true."

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the bag I filled with the dirty laundry that piled up. I took the bag and ran to the laundry room. I put the clothes in the wash and ran out. I kept an eye on Courtney until my wash was done – I wouldn't be surprised if she put one of her pink shirts in with my white clothing.

I looked at the clothing I had left. Besides the shirt I just bought, I only had some Gothic dress I brought here in case there was a special occasion. It was black with purple ribbon laced into a corset. The tutu was also a matching shade of purple with black, flowery lace at the bottom. I also had black leggings to go with it. For shoes, I brought black flats with a little bow – in the center of the bow where everything tied was a rhinestone, posing as an amethyst gem.

I put it on and asked LeShawna, "Should I wear this? Or should I wait for the wash to get done?"

"If you can kick ass with a skirt and combat boots, you can spend a day in flats and tutu." She laughed. I nodded.

"I mean, it's not any different from the skirt or anything. It's just…fancy-looking."

Courtney walked by me. Her eyes scanned my outfit when she said, "You look like a ballerina who just climbed out of a tar pit."

It wasn't like her outfit wasn't much dumber. She wore pink shorts, black knee-high socks, white sneakers and a familiar-looking white t-shirt with a black outline of John Lennon.

I stared, surprised. "Is that my fucking shirt?!"

She smiled, satisfied with the fact I noticed her stealing my shirt. "Not anymore."

"That cost so much fucking money! _Give it back_!"

I grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm. She hissed in pain and said, "Fine! Fine! I'll give you your dang shirt back!"

I loosened my grip and angrily put my hands on my hips as she grabbed a _Demi Lovato_ shirt from her bag. She then removed the John Lennon shirt and threw it next to me as she put her new shirt on.

I picked up my poor, forty-dollar shirt with caution and exclaimed, "I'm throwing this in the wash!!"

I ran back to the laundry room. I checked the load I was already washing – the darks were done washing, so I threw them in the dryer. I put the white load in with the John Lennon shirt and closed the lid.

I walked outside, and Justin was right there dragging a bag of clothing. He immediately asked, "How do I wash this?"

I took the bag and threw the bag on the floor. "Someone will get it later."

He nodded and as I walked away, he followed. "So you're dating Duncan."

"Yeah."

"Huh."

"What are you 'huh'-ing about?"

"I knew you were going to date."

"Really."

"Yeah. I did. Why would you doubt my knowing?"

"Well, you're not exactly the brightest crayon in the box."

"Of course I'm not. Lindsay is. I mean, she's the one that wears all the pink."

I was speechless. I kept walking to the trailer.

I walked into the trailer and checked my pillowcase. With Courtney suddenly acting bitchier than usual, I needed to keep my possessions safe.

I opened my pillowcase. Everything was in order. However, to be safe, I took that song Trent wrote me a while back and ripped it up.

She looked up. "What are you ripping apart?"

"Something personal." I simply answered. I took the shred of paper that had the words, "Gwen's Song" on it, ripped it up into even smaller pieces, and stuffed the remains of it back in the pillowcase. I took the rest of the music and put it into the wastebasket.

I grabbed that meal bar thing, got up off of my bunk and went outside. I needed to get out. She was driving me to the point I may actually go _insane_.

I sat on a bench outside and ate it quickly, in case Courtney was coming out to bitch some more. She didn't.

I finished the whole thing. It was, indeed, filling. God, if you ate these for the rest of your life, you'd be as skinny as Madonna.

And I decided to _not_ eat them for the rest of my life.


	48. Ch48: Heartbreak

**A/N: Please overlook the fact that I don't know my Roman numerals.**

Duncan walked out, slightly surprised by my outfit. He was wearing his new T-Shirt with dark blue skinny jeans and a red-and-black checker-patterned studded belt and Red Converse. Before he could say anything, I said, "This is the only full outfit I have left while my other stuff is getting washed."

"I wasn't going to say anything," he shrugged and sat down. "It doesn't matter; you'd look pretty in a sweat suit."

I smiled, feeling extremely confident and loved, until he said, "That doesn't mean you should wear one."

I nodded and looked towards the Mess Hall. "Should we go there or stay here?"

"Go there," he said. "Usually they start the challenges there. Today is elimination, so if we don't compete in the challenge, LeShawna will have to work alone."

"Yeah," I agreed, and sat up, pulling him up with me. "Let's just get today over with. I hate this tutu."

He chortled under his breath, and we continued walking to the Mess Hall. Lucky we ate those bars – the food today was horrible.

We had to decide between warm strawberry milkshakes or cold fries. Apparently, the milkshakes were supposed to go to Chef and Chris, but they mistakenly left them out on the kitchen counter, turning them into a liquid. And the fries were leftovers, stowed in the fridge. Chef was too lazy to heat them up, and too lazy to refreeze the desserts.

LeShawna took cold French fries, and eyed me as I didn't eat anything.

"I ate some food I brought here before." I told her. She turned towards Duncan. He nodded and answered, "Same."

I was so bored, that I started tracing the wood grain with my fingertip…until a soccer ball hit the tabletop in front of me.

I jumped a bit in shock, until I turned towards Chris at the door. He had a visor on, with a sweatshirt and shorts. He looked like those stereotypical gym coaches from old '80s teen dramas.

"Okay, are you ready for today's sport-movie challenge?" he asked.

Courtney stood up and disagreed, "First of all, you look _terrible_ as a coach. Second of all, name _five_ sports movies."

Counting off his fingers, Chris replied, "_Rocky, Rocky 2, Rocky 3, Rocky 4, and Rocky 5. _Ha!"

Courtney eyed him and sat back down, angry at her defeat.

"Like I was saying, the old teams are back for this challenge like always," he continued. He then turned towards me and Duncan – we were innocently holding hands – and said, "That'll be good news for the happy couple."

I blushed in embarrassment, yet along with Duncan, Courtney and Trent, I soon glared.

Lindsay looked over at us and exclaimed, "Oh! Oh! I _knew _it!!"

Chris continued, "Come to Set 1 for today's _elimination_ challenge."

On his way out, Duncan threw the soccer ball in his direction. However, it fell a foot short, and bounced onto the backs of Chris's shins.

He turned, grabbed the soccer ball, and did nothing but drop it in front of his feet and dribble it out.

Duncan and I stood up after everyone else, and we started walking towards the set. Once there, we saw a massive soccer field and a scoreboard.

"Okay," Chris announced, in a referee's uniform. "Since the Killer Grips have one player too many, you must choose one person to stay out of the game."

Justin, Courtney, and Trent immediately pointed to Lindsay. Lindsay crossed her arms, looking extremely cross, and said, "Fine, if you think I'm _that fat_!"

The narcissistic Justin didn't say anything. Complimenting people other than himself clearly wasn't in his book. Courtney was _never_ caring towards anyone that wasn't her ally.

However, Trent said, "Lindsay! You're not fat at all!"

Flattered, she turned towards him and droned happily, "Reeeeeeeaaally?"

He looked at her extremely-skinny stomach. She wasn't anorexic-skinny, but she was thinner than people usually were.

"Are you kidding?" he snorted. "You're a freakin' toothpick!"

Chris continued, "Yeah, friendship-building moment, I get it. Now, let's play some soccer!"

It was a 3-on-3 sort of thing. I was so fucking thankful that Duncan played soccer as a kid – he was playing offense well. I was defense – it was the easiest position, in my opinion. LeShawna was goalie. Luckily, Duncan usually kept the ball up away from our goal. However, there was a downside to it.

You know that infamous video of the college girl yanking other players' hair and pretty much bringing hell wherever she dribbled the ball? That was pretty much Duncan. He toned it down a bit – he usually just shoved the Grips' offense (Justin) out of his way. However, sometimes when he aimed to kick the ball, Duncan accidentally kicked his shins. Apparently, it was painful.

"My shins!" Justin shrieked once. "My beautiful shins! They're all scraped and flawed and _ugly_!"

Duncan innocently kicked the ball into the goal, which Trent failed to protect.

We were pretty much _on fire_. We, inevitably, won the first challenge. That was good – we _needed_ this win, or else LeShawna would probably be gone. I mean, I would _never_ eliminate Duncan. _Never_. And I'm extremely positive that Duncan wouldn't dare to eliminate me.

The second challenge was – dear Lord – _boxing_. Due to my Philadelphia roots, Justin said, "Gwen should win this."

I simply elbowed him. Why the _hell_ is he trying to build some rapport with me? I don't know, like, or care for Mr. Perfect.

"This is only the first part of the second challenge," Chris explained. "You know those scenes in sports movies where they slow down all of the roles?"

I nodded. Chris continued, "Well, you must fight in slow-mo."

I sighed. Dear Lord. Dear motherfucking Lord. Pretending to be fighting in slow-motion was grounds for humiliation.

"For the first challenge, its…LeShawna versus Lindsay." Chris announced. LeShawna sighed, and walked up to the boxing mat. Once she got up there, Chef stuffed novelty-sized marshmallow gloves on her fists.

"Okay…go!" Chris called. LeShawna fought slowly like Chris explained, but Lindsay didn't care for sluggishness.

Although Lindsay punched LeShawna down to the floor – shocking, I agree – Chris gave the challenge to us for actually doing what the challenge required.

"Okay, follow me to the set for our next sport." Chris announced. We walked towards the next set. Oh, dear – we were going to fight in a ball pit.

"Oh, _God_," I exclaimed. "Where are we supposed to be, Chuck E. Cheese?!"

Chris disregarded my comments and continued, "The competitors for Ball Pit Wrestling are Duncan and Courtney!"

I turned white. Oh, no. Oh, no, no, _no_.

Courtney is totally going to take out all of her grudges against him in this fight. She was going to go _insane_. I leaned in towards Duncan and said, "Good luck fighting The Beast."

Oh. That was a good nickname for her.

"Thanks," he nodded, and took off his shirt to start the fight. Ooh. That was so, so freaking hot. I quickly grabbed his hand. He looked back at me. I simply nodded, as if reassuring a win. He nodded back, and his grip on my hand loosened. His fingertips glided off of my palm, and I watched a pissed-off Courtney stood in the ball pit.

Oh no. I bit the inside of my right cheek to where it was so inflamed, it ached.

The fight was absolutely odd – Duncan twisted her arms back, only to her throwing him back in the pit. It was almost painful to watch. That's until she was trying to pretty much rip his head off.

You know those times when someone is mad at the other person, and they end up kissing the person they hate?

That's what The Beast did. As I saw their lips meet, I felt like crying my eyes out. I was too upset to speak. I was totally heartbroken at that split-second, until Duncan – oh my God, _Duncan_ – pulled away from the kiss and tried twisting her arms again. I stopped feeling so sorry for myself. At least he didn't fall for her again. But I am seriously going to kill this girl after the challenge.

Duncan won – thank God – so the challenge didn't go on longer. Once he came out of the pit, I immediately ran up and hugged him. I just wanted to state to The Beast that he was _mine_ and she was simply out of the picture.

He held me tighter, and I tried desperately to fight back tears. I won the fight.


	49. Ch49: Karma

**A/N: Good news for ya'll – after this story is done, it's getting a sequel. That isn't going to be for a while, though. XD**

I was so depressed. My day was ruined. I was so angry at The Beast. I was staying extremely close to Duncan for the rest of the day, not saying anything.

Finally, at the end of the day, I was holding onto Duncan, feeling upset beyond belief. However, I finally said, "Why does she think she can have you?"

He shook his head and sighed. "I have no idea."

"And why is she still here?"

"Because Lindsay can't do anything without fucking it up."

I sighed and held onto him tighter. I couldn't talk, or think of anything to talk about. He then sighed, "I'm sorry."

I sat up and shook my head. "It's not your fault. You tried your absolute bes—"

He interrupted me by kissing me silent. It was longer and nicer compared to the one between The Beast and Duncan. Afterwards, I simply laid my head on his chest and said, "I want her gone."

"We all do." He said.

I started talking about her again, he interrupted me again. "Let's just forget about her for tonight. Okay?"

I nodded. "Sure."

After a short while, he asked, "Do you want to sabotage Courtney?"

"She's 'The Beast', Duncan. Remember that." I corrected him.

"Well, do you want to prank _The Beast_?!" he asked again in a dramatic tone.

I smiled and nodded. He got up, grabbed me by the wrists, and pulled me up with him. He dragged me to the communal washrooms and we opened the cabinet underneath the sink. We shuffled through bottles of shampoo until he asked, "Which one is hers?"

I grabbed the lemon-scented shampoo-and-conditioner-set with the word "COURTNEY" written on each bottle. I handed him the two bottles and said, "I assume these are."

He grinned as I handed the bottles towards him. He took the two bottle caps off and told me to hold the bottles as he ran outside. He came back, with two bugs climbing over his hands.

"Ugh, put them in there quick!" I exclaimed, until he put one bug in each bottle.

He made a few trips until there were three insects in each bottle. He wiped his hands off and said, "Okay. That should be enough. Now empty out half of the bottle."

I did so. I was surprised to see none of the pests escape. They were so large, they couldn't escape.

"What good is this prank if none of the bugs creep out?" I asked.

"When her shampoo runs out – which will now be soon – she'll scream _so_ loud when she sees those bugs."

I smiled. I emptied them out even more so she'd see this sooner. This was awesome. She was going to think there was a bug infestation in her shampoo.

I would love it even more if she thought she had lice in her hair or something. I grinned, and put her shampoo back.

We ran out of the washrooms and I turned to Duncan. "I can't wait until she sees those bugs."

He grinned. When we got back to the spot, out of temptation, he pulled me closer towards him and started kissing me. I was taken by surprise by it, but soon went along with it. Soon after, his hands slid from my back and into my back pockets. I accidentally interrupted the kiss by giggling.

I then playfully dug my fingers into his scalp, bringing him closer to me. After we finished, we simply fell asleep.

I woke up to Duncan's damn watch. I shut it off (without hitting his wrist this time) myself and gently shoved him awake.

"Come on," I said. I murmured, "Get up, get up, get up, get up…"

I would've continued, until I heard some mechanics and screaming. I gasped, and Duncan's eyes immediately opened as he sat up.

"What the fuck was that?!" he exclaimed. I simply shook my head. I grabbed his arm, got up, and dragged him with me. Halfway out, he said, "Wait. We have to leave separately."

I nodded when Duncan said, "I'll go this way," and pointed to the right. He ran in that direction, and I sprinted out. There was a pitfall outside of the girls' cabin. Confused, I ran there and looked in. Courtney's eye mask was on her forehead, wearing her pajamas and slippers. She was smacking the sides of the trap, trying to find some loose dirt to climb back up.

Laughing, I exclaimed, "Oh, sweet, sweet karma!"

She looked up and glared as I laughed hysterically. This was the best day I've had here (with the exception of getting laid). And - hell no! – I was _not _helping her out. I'd rather let her ass rot underground than be a kind citizen.

As I was laughing, I felt a sharp pain in my neck. I hissed, and put my hand over it. _Oh my God_.

I've been shot with a tranquilizer gun. What the fuck was _this_?! I felt my eyes get droopier, and I fell into the pit.

Courtney crossed her arms, smiled, and mocked me by saying, "Oh, sweet, sweet karma!"

I reached back and yanked the dart out of my neck. It was agonizing pain, yet it was crucial to rip it out of my collar. I mean, what if someone _else_ fell on it and it broke my neck or something?

"Oh, shit!" I heard Duncan exclaim. He ran towards me, my eyes still baggy.

"Aw, shit!! Gwen, you okay?" he asked.

I shrugged. "Some asshole shot me with a goddamn tranquilizing dart."

Courtney then snapped, "I am disgusted by the vulgar language used here. Can you try to keep this conversation _somewhat_ decent?"

Duncan rolled his eyes. "In your fucking dreams, _mother dearest_."

He extended his hand and grabbed my arm. "Okay, just cooperate with me."

When he started pulling me up, Trent, Justin, and LeShawna fell in, pushing Duncan in the pit as well.

"Oh, this is just fucking _dandy_," I said, before blacking out.

I woke up once again strewn over Duncan's chest, like I usually found myself every morning. I got up, and stared at the ceiling. It was high up, and the unfamiliar room I sat in turned out to be spacious. It looked like a warehouse – the steel beams that supported the house were proud to show, and the concrete floor was pretty fucking dirty.

I sat up, looking over at Duncan. I leaned on his chest again. What can I say? – his chest was _so damn warm_.

Soon, I heard some "buzzert" sound, and I looked up at an odd-looking hologram that just appeared.

"Wakey-wakey, eggs-and-bakey!" Chris's voice overcame. Everyone soon woke up, and I felt like dying right here. I didn't feel like _working_. I felt like falling asleep again.

We all looked at the screen. Chris had an eye patch over his right eye while he pet a kitten. Quite manly, if I do say so myself.

"From now on, it's _every person for themselves_," he announced. We exchanged surprised (and competitive) looks until Chris said, "But!!! I have a 'but'!"

Duncan smiled. I gently elbowed him and said, "You're sixteen, dear."

Once the group was silent, Chris nodded. "Gracias. Like I was saying, you only have five minutes to escape this building. Which will explode once your time is up. Ta-ta."


	50. Ch50: Bitch, Part II

**A/N: WHOA! 0.o I wrote 50 chapters XD I have quite a lot of time on my hands.**

What did we do at this moment? The moment we found out we only had five minutes to escape this building?

_We flipped our fucking shit_.

I tried all the doors, and we were three stories up. We were blowing up, hands down.

I simply held onto Duncan and said, "We're exploding with this fucking warehouse."

Then, out of the blue came Chris's hologram face again. "Okay, right now, we're unlocking the door facing the north. In there is a laser grid with a grappling hook. Get that, and you're home free."

The message shut off, and we all darted towards the door. Inside, we could only take two steps before running into the grid.

Courtney immediately tied her hair back and snuck underneath the grid. All I can say is: I am no longer the most flexible person here. There were countless close calls, and once her hair almost cost us.

"_Damn_," I heard Trent murmur at one point. "The girl's got skill."

She got the hook out of the case, and the grid shut off. She walked over to the window and grappled the hook onto a set across the way. She turned to us and said, "You don't think you're all getting a free ride here, do you?"

I stared. Oh, dear.

"If you want to make it out here alive, if you win, you're giving me half of your winnings." She grinned devilishly. All of a sudden, nobody wanted to compete anymore.

I was tired of this. I then thought to myself, _If you outsmart her, she won't take anymore bullshit from you._

"Hey, why don't you use your sweatshirt, use the grappling hook as a zip line, and escape?" I proposed. "Then, we'll have no way out of here. You'll win the money by default."

Everyone stared. Justin smacked the back of my head and said, "I'm not dying here!"

I smacked him back. Courtney nodded and said, "Sure."

She removed her sweatshirt, revealing this Dooney & Burke tank top. She used it as the handle and zip-lined down, exclaiming, "See you _losers_ later!"

She slid away. I was left stared at. I then took control as dictator of the group.

"Okay, everyone get a nice, firm grip around this wire." I said. Once everyone got a grip, I asked, "Okay. Is everyone firmly on this wire?"

Everyone nodded. Trent turned to me, skeptical, and asked, "Now what?"

"We jump off this ledge on three."

Duncan's eyes turned wide. "_What_?"

"Believe me, hon." I reassured him.

I sighed. This was going to work. Right? Right.

"Okay," I breathed a heavy sigh of anticipation. "One…two…three!"

Everyone hopped off. We all screamed. My right hand started to slip. I screeched, "DUNCAN!"

He held me closer. He actually held me so tight, it was somewhat difficult to breathe. We came up to the wall we were about to hit until I screamed, "HOLY SHIT! _HOLY SHIT_!!!! FEET OUT! PUT YOUR FUCKING FEET OUT!"

Everyone did as instructed. It actually hurt – feeling your bare soles hit the hard metal of the building. But, we lived. We slid off, happy with our success, to a surprised Courtney.

She marched on over to me and yelled, "You fucking liar!"

"It's not my fault you act like a genius," I said, rolling up the grappling hook around my wrist, "when you're a gullible mess."

Offended, she exclaimed, "In all of my years as a school elective, I've never met anyone as _rude_ as you!"

I laughed. "You act like a fucking ambassador when the closest you've had to a political career was being the Middle School Treasurer."

She growled and tried to strike me. I grabbed her wrist and twisted her arm until she called "mercy".

Surprisingly, she took the pain and responded by trying to twist my other arm. Soon, Duncan intervened, ripping us apart and dragging me away. I tried to strike her again.

"Don't get her agitated," he warned me.

"But I really want to!" I told him. "I want her to fuck off!"

"Just leave her alone. I'll take care of her."

"I want to do this myself!"

"Well, _don't_!"

My arguing was interrupted by him kissing me. In front of everyone. Hooray for PDA's.

Afterwards, I grinned. "Aw. You have such a sweet side."

He smiled and simply answered, "No, I don't."

"Yeah, you do."

"Maybe for you?"

"_See_?! That's proof enough!"

Still smiling, he rolled his eyes as we walked to challenge number two.


	51. Ch51: Karma Strikes Again

The second part of the challenge made me want to puke.

We had to defuse a fucking paint bomb. I couldn't work with anything that included wires – no matter how many people tell me what to do, no matter how many _Howcast_ videos I'm sent, I can't seem to figure out wires.

We sat with a barrel full of garbage in front of us. We had one per contestant. I stared at mine. A moldy Burger King wrapper was sticking out, along with a damned used condom.

Guess who that was probably from?

I stared at the five wires that were in front of me. Oh, dear. One was yellow, another was blue, the one next to it was red, the one below that white, and the remaining one was green.

"You have ten minutes! And…go!" Chris called from quite a safe distance.

Justin looked at the wires. "Isn't it always the blue one that defuses it?"

I looked towards him. "Yeah. But don't cut that one. It's the easy choice."

He nodded. And with that advice, The Beast (I almost forgot about that nickname!) grabbed her clippers and cut her blue wire. The bomb, thankfully, didn't set off.

I glared at her, clenching my teeth. "Always trying to prove me wrong, aren't you?"

"It's not trying if you're just naturally incorrect," she said.

I growled under my breath. Duncan then protected me by saying, "Okay, bitch, just _shut – the fuck – UP! _Do you know how _wrong_ you usually are?!"

She looked shocked, hurt, and most importantly, hurt. She shook the feeling off and looked at her bomb. Everyone left snapped the blue wires on their bombs.

Unfortunately, the blue wire was apparently the wrong choice on the rest of our paint bombs.

I was coated in red paint from my bomb, and some blue paint from Duncan's. We were totally coated in paint.

On the way back from the set, Chris told us that the challenge went to Justin and The Beast. The prize? A trip to the cheese factory! Ah, fresh mozzarella and brie being produced while The Beast's lactose intolerance gives her the hives!

All I could say was, "Karma is _fucking sweet_!"

On the way to the showers, Duncan accidentally tripped on a rock. He accidentally hit me and got blue paint all over my side.

He smiled at the white smear on my arm. "Sorry about the blue paint."

I looked at my fingertips. Red paint coated them. I smeared the paint on his arm. "Sorry about the red paint."

He paused for a moment, hands in his pockets, when he suggested, "How about purple?"

I didn't get it at first, until he kissed me. Halfway in, I _finally_ realized. Red plus blue equals purple.

Ah, that's clever! Very, very clever!

I then went into the shower to get this paint cleaned off. Halfway into my shower, I realized my period stopped. _Yes!_ Finally, my short, agonizing vacation from sex was over!

After my shower, I shook my hair dry, brushed it, and simply got dressed in white sweat pants, a blue shirt, and my amazing new hat. After I dried my hair with LeShawna's hairdryer, I asked her if I could use her straightener, too, so the hair wouldn't look poofy under the hat.

I mildly burned my index fingertip, so I rushed to the communal washroom to cool it off. The only pain left was a tinge of pain every time I touched something. I put a bandage over top of it, so the pain lessened.

I looked in the mirror. I looked…pretty. I really, really should consider paying more attention to my hair. At least it would look nice…and not shitty.

I then walked into the Mess Hall for dinner. Duncan looked surprised by my hair.

"You did something different with your hair?" he asked.

I nodded. He replied, "…looks cool."

"Thanks," I grinned a bit.

Soon enough, Justin walked in, keeping his distance from the catastrophe that walked behind him. The Beast walked in. Oh, dear. She was covered in a rash. Her skin was like tomato-red sandpaper. She had her hoodie pulled up over head, scurrying in, afraid to show her face. Wouldn't blame her.

She sat down, still covering her face. Goddamn, I love karma.

All Duncan could ask was, "…was I _high_ when I kissed her?"

I laughed, until he said in a serious tone, "I'm not kidding. Was I literally _high_?"

"Possibly desperate." I said. Well, if he was irked by that, I kept a smile on my face.

He paused for a short moment. "If you weren't hotter than usual, I'd be offended."

I grinned. Oh! OH!! I'm "hotter than usual"! That means I was _hot before_!

Well, I sort of knew that beforehand. Still, it made me blush every single time.

The Beast then looked at her PDA. She murmured, "Ooh."

She took her hands off her hood. As she was typing on her PDA, her hood fell off. Her face was even more hideous than I expected.

Due to a strong, strong impulse, Duncan exclaimed, "Dear God!"

The Beast looked up and glared at him. "So much for self-esteem."

After dinner, Duncan and I were sitting behind the communal washroom. We talked between kissing, yet we mostly excluded the talking. The steam from someone's shower formed dewdrops on our face.

It was all interrupted by deafening screaming. We rushed inside to see The Beast throwing her shampoo in the trash, hands rushing through her hair.

She rushed up to Duncan, still holding her towel to cover herself. "Oh, dear! Are there any _pests_ left in your hair?"

Duncan and I both searched her hair. She then rolled her eyes and pointed towards my wrist. "Well, except for that one."

Duncan clenched his teeth and backed up. I followed.

He wore a concerned expression. "About four. They're the same color as your hair. Tough to find."

She gasped, and her hands frantically resumed searching her hair.

"Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God, Oh, God!!" she repeated, flipping her shit.

On our way out, I started laughing hysterically, and held him close.

"I love you! You're a _genius_!" I laughed.

"I get that often." He smiled.


	52. Ch52: Another Escape

**A/N: OKAY! I feel that if I contribute to fanfiction by writing this INSANELY long story (rofl.), why not **_**read**_** a fanfiction? Like, get involved. OK, well, I tried. Needless to say…all the stories that looked good…sucked. So, if anyone can share like, links to a GOOD fanfiction (one that doesn't fuck up 3****rd**** grade spelling terms, doesn't talk about Courtney as a goddess, or totally misinterpret character personalities), you get a cyber cookie, for I am totally desperate. I'm finished **_**Thirteenth Child**_** in a freaking day, and **_**Vladimir Tod 4 **_**doesn't come out for another month. So I'm bored beyond belief.**

How did I act tonight? Insane. Just…fucking, fucking insane. I didn't put on my pajamas. I stayed in my regular clothes.

I ran towards the spot, and Duncan was quite shocked to see me in my casual wear.

"Why still dressed?" he asked, and put his shirt back on – it was an old, clearly torn up New Jersey Devils sports jersey. He, surprisingly, had the ripped, loose jeans that were usually too heavy to sport on, too.

I pulled him up and said, "I want to go out again! That was fucking _fun_!"

He grinned. "We just went out, for God's sake!"

I pressed myself against him, held his hands, interlocking our fingers, and holding them tightly. I added, "Right. I was just thinking…"

"What?" he asked. He was still grinning.

"Maybe…we could stop at a restaurant…a record store…" – in a quieter tone, I suggested, - "…a motel?..."

He grinned even wider. "Ooh. Then yeah. I'll deeply consider it."

We climbed the wall again. We went up to the first motel we spotted. It was dirty looking, but still. It would be fine. When we walked up the counter, the receptionist gave us a funny look, until I requested, "Can we have a room with like, a sleeper sofa or something?"

She looked at me. "Why?"

"Because we're cousins that need two beds?"

Duncan stood there, nodding.

She nodded, blushing at her mistake, and reached back and grabbed two keys. She handed them to Duncan and I, Duncan reached in his pockets, grabbing all of the money he had on him.

On the means of funds, we just made it.

I ran up to the room we booked.

Once I opened the door, I saw it. I could only describe it this way: "Oh, this looks ni—OHHHHH MYYYYY JEEEZZZZZUSSSSS THIS IS A MESSSSSS."

Frankly, I don't know what that was. But there were stains all over the sheets. I couldn't identify them – the bright red one may be red wine, the green one was clearly grass, and the darker red one…I wanted to say blood. But I was afraid that I was correct. And I didn't dare guess on the white one. Dear…dear Lord, no.

After a moment of just checking the shithouse up, Duncan then pinned me to the bed and started kissing me. I immediately grabbed the bottom of his shirt, and tore it straight off of his back, my pinkie finger running up his back all the while.

He started tugging on my shirt as well, and soon successfully tore it off. After we successfully stripped down, we finally had sex. It was, like always, unexplainably _amazing_.

We lied down to try to fall asleep. I was still stimulated from the sex. I nudged him, trying to capture his attention. I soon did.

"Mm-hm?" he asked, burying is face into the pillow. I poked him again so he would look up at me.

"Again?" I requested.

He sat up, and started laughing quietly to himself. "Wow. You serious?"

I nodded and smiled suggestively. "Please?"

He grinned. "My pleasure."

And so, we had sex again. It was just as great as the first time (today. Not the _first_ first time…dear God, that was just terrifying). As much as I wanted to stay overnight here – I just wanted to sleep. Once we relaxed, I said, "Oh, shit. We have to get back."

"Dammit." He muttered, hitting the back of his head against the headboard. He sighed, leaned over, grabbed his shirt and jeans from the floor, and put them on while saying, "So, we'll check out…and we'll look like cousin-fucking rednecks."

I rolled my eyes while putting my shirt back on. "Who cares? We'll never see that receptionist again in our lives."

"I guess."

"What's to be worried about?"

"It's a little thing called _social awkwardness_."

"So what?"

"It's obviously _awkward_. And an embarrassment."

"Whatever."

I got my jeans on, and as soon as we were ready, we left. He told the receptionist (who inevitably asked, "Checking out already?") that his sister had reservations at a nearby hotel, and she finally called with the information a few minutes ago.

On the way back, he simply said, "That was the most ridiculous lie I've ever told."

"It was actually really good for something you only spent two minutes thinking about." I complimented him. He nodded in response.

We walked around the city for a while, simply talking. I found the fact that we could talk for hours without getting bored of each other. After we were bored and our feet were aching, we climbed over the wall again – we came back at about midnight.

I lied against his chest – as I always did when I tried to fall asleep – and eventually did.


	53. Ch53: Little Princess

**A/N: Oh my Jesus. Duncan's perspective is going to show up later. Just wait for it!!!!!!!!!! XD**

You know those times when you wake up, just _randomly_ feeling like shit, even when one of the greatest nights of your life happened the night before?

Not like some sort of hangover. More like a pessimistic view, such as, "No day I'm ever going to have will compare to the fun, slutty events that went down last night."

Well, most people exclude the "slutty" part. Still, that was my exact feeling. I sat up, and to my surprise, Duncan was already up. He didn't even bother waking me up. I astonishingly woke up on time, too. I guess waking up at the same time everyday builds a natural habit on you.

I sat up and looked at Duncan. He was listening to his iPod, occasionally smiling at what was on the screen. I quietly leaned in to see what he was watching. It was a video of three douches on a ship. What the fuck was this?

I quickly pulled the earplugs out of the iPod. He turned towards me, totally taken off guard.

"JESUS!" he exclaimed, his voice overcoming the song that was playing.

This song was terrible. It was…terrible rapping. It was terrible compared to terrible rapping. This was straight out of a horror flick.

I stared and blankly asked, "What the fuck are you listening to?"

"Lonely Island. Duh."

"Who the hell are they?! And what are they singing, for God's sake?!"

He stared. "Comedians? Singing about boats?"

"I don't get it."

"It's a joke on about how anyone can pretty much rap about anything."

"…oh?"

"Yeah. Listen to it. You'll get it."

He restarted the video. Somehow…someway…I made it through. I kept nodding. I got the joke – not a good one, but I got it. Digital Shorts never appealed to me. This one just added to the Basket of Late-Night Disappointments.

After it was – thank God – done, Duncan turned the iPod off. He looked over at me. I kept nodding when I turned towards him.

"So?" he asked.

"Meh." I shrugged.

He shrugged back. "Whatever."

I stood up and helped him up with me. I quickly changed the subject from Andy-Samberg-nightmares to challenges. "And today's challenge will be?"

"Elimination, first of all," he nodded. "Second of all, hopefully…it's nothing stupid."

"Oh, dear, I hope so." I nodded.

I didn't feel like talking to really anybody at breakfast. I already ate a snack bar, and I felt stuffed. And, there are also those days when you just don't feel like eating. And there are those days when you feel like you can eat Wawa's whole hoagie supply in under a minute. The "ever-growing, fast-paced teenage body" (that quote straight out of my middle-school health teacher's mouth) was an odd, complex piece of shit.

I played my iPod out loud. The Beast absolutely hated my taste – I was blasting rock music as loud as the thing could go.

"Can you put on something that's _not_ violent?" she demanded.

"Like the Jonas Brothers pansies?" I asked, trying to play the iPod higher.

"At least they don't have a freaking criminal record."

"Fuck you," Duncan cut in, glaring at the Beast. Oh. This was too good.

She bit her bottom lip with her teeth. "Oh…crap. Sorry."

He rolled his eyes and turned back to my iPod. He leaned into me and asked, "I know you hate the song, but can we please play the Boat song to piss her off?"

I smiled. "Certainly."

He took his iPod and played it as loud as he could. Once the first swear word was mentioned, The Beast's eyes widened. "Turn that foul song _off!_"

"None of the Lonely Island members have a criminal record," Duncan smiled, "and it's not rock. Isn't that what you wanted?"

"This song is disgusting. Shut it off."

To the contrary, Duncan and I randomly started rapping along to the song – just to piss her off. Most of the time, I was just going, "Something, something, something…motherfucker…something…something."

She rolled her eyes in disgust. "Please, for all that is actually _decent_ in this place. Turn your iPod off. Please."

"Sure." Duncan said.

"Really?" she asked, surprised by his compromise.

"No." he grinned, playing the song until the end.

She stood up, pissed off beyond belief. "Is anyone _else_ disgusted by this atrocity?"

Nobody came forward. I smiled at her defeat.

She sat her ass back down, crossing her arms like a toddler whose mother didn't buy her anything from the candy shop.

Soon, Chris entered the Mess Hall on a white horse (actually, it was a donkey painted white. I hope that was safe). He held this Plexiglas stiletto heel on an ornate-looking pillow.

He placed it on an empty table. "Okay, girls, come up here and try to fit your foot into this heel."

LeShawna, The Beast and I walked up to the heel. The person who won would be the center of attention today – the princess. Sounded stupid, yet I really wanted to win today. LeShawna tried first. Her foot was much bigger than the heel. She brushed this off – she didn't want to be a princess, anyway. Even though she wanted to win.

The Beast stood up and tried to fit her fat foot in the heel. She kept persisting to fit her foot in there, until Chris finally tore it off her foot. It left a deep, red mark in her foot where the shoe pressured down on her skin. He handed me the shoe. I put it on.

Thank God for my small feet. The shoe was actually maybe a size bigger than my foot, but I spread my toes out so it fit.

Phew. I was safe for sure. With me totally invincible, Duncan and I were sure to stay.

Chris nodded. "Okay. Congratulations, Princess Gwen."

"Don't call me that," I quickly said.

"As you wish."

I nodded. "Good."

Soon, I had to choose a fancy dress from the costume department as my "gown". It was gaudy, but it was the only one that didn't have flowers or oddities. It was a villainess gown. It was black, with red spider webs designed onto it. It had this huge, bat-like structure acting as the bow on the back.

I looked at my reflection. I looked fine.

I was then brought to the stage. I had to do something to make everyone want to rescue me. Now, what the fuck was I supposed to do? I can't sing or play an instrument. And forget stand-up comedy. I guess I should just…talk.

"Uh, hi." I waved. "Well, I won't put on a musical for you. Or give you a stand-up comedy. I'll…just talk, I guess. I mean, I'm somewhat eloquent. I guess it's my skill."

The Beast yawned. I pointed her out. "You keep your comments to yourself, missy."

I then started talking about myself. I kept it brief, but…I made myself seem like a saint, when I knew deep in my heart I was going straight to hell.

++++++++Duncan's Perspective++++++++

Halfway through Gwen's life story, I sort of zoned out. She didn't really have to say anything. I'll save her. I mean, it's a necessity.

I was totally out of touch with reality until Trent murmured, "God, she's beautiful."

That snapped me out of my meditation. I hissed, "What the _fuck_ did you say?"

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked. "Look at her. She's gorgeous…smart…and believe me, I'm winning her back."

Oh, no he didn't.

"Look here, Elvis," I hissed and said in a threatening tone, "_Nobody_ will dare touch Gwen. Got that?"

"You're intimidated. Sends off a bad message, Mister Tough."

"I'm not intimidated. I'm just protecting what's mine."

"Well, prepare to be robbed."

Oh, shit. I snarled, "If you even touch her, I'm fucking _killing_ you. You had your fucking chance, and you lost it. _Get the hell over it_."

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah. You're totally intimidated."

Oh. No. He. _Didn't_.

++++++++Gwen's Perspective++++++++

After my speech, they dragged me towards the (water) tower. It was high up, absolutely terrifying. I simply watched everyone break their backs trying to get here to rescue me, Duncan and – holy, holy shit – _Trent_ trying their hardest.

One of them was absolutely heart-warming, amazingly sweet, something I was looking forward to. The other one was absolutely creepy. Guess who.

I sat up there, watching. I was whispering to myself, "Come on, Duncan, come on, come on, come on!"

They were neck and neck. Oh, dear. And the person up here first was probably going to have to kiss me. My eyes widened in fear. What if Trent got up here first? OH MY GOD! I bit my lip so hard, I felt the skin almost ripping off.

I watched. Chris announced, "Okay, now as you see, we've recycled the animatronical monster from the first challenge to be the dragon. Slay the dragon, and climb up the tower to rescue the princess."

I got closer to watch. Duncan, please win. Please, _please _win.

Duncan was focusing on kicking the dragon's ass. Looked promising. That's until Trent focused on shutting it off scientifically. He spotted a clear On/Off switch and switched it off with his sword.

The dragon immediately shut off, and Trent started climbing. Oh, my GOD!! I had to bit on something other than my already-sore lip. I bit on my knuckle instead.

++++++++Duncan's Perspective++++++++

Okay. I have to climb this bitch up to Gwen to win. Got it.

However, Elvis was in the fucking lead. This isn't going well.

I started climbing up. _Focus on your speed_, I told myself, _and don't you dare slip up_.

I was almost up – multiple splinters were in the palms of my hand. That's until I slipped. I fell a couple of feet before grasping onto a wooden beam.

"Shit, shit, shit!! _Fuck_, _fuck_, _fuck_!" I hissed at myself. I looked up.

Holy shit. I didn't want to see this. It was Trent, clearly satisfied with his success with Gwen crying inside for fucking mercy.

God, Trent looked like a fucking _rapist_.

He leaned into kiss her, with her almost bending backwards to stay away from his apparently toxic lips.

That's until Chris said, "Okay! Ready for your swordfight?"

Ooh. Sweet, sweet irony.

I climbed up to watch it. An intern was already up there, and handed them fencing swords. Gwen sighed.

"If…if you let me win, I'll…kiss you, I guess. Deal?" she offered.

Oh my God. What a fucking _bitch_! Just practically throwing herself at the damn kid for a _win._ It was like the whole Courtney scenario all over again. This was terror. This was fucking terror.

It was official. I was going to end up _dying alone. _I always pick out the nice girls who always seem to be fucking _amazing_ – honestly something that sneaked up on you – and it turns out they're money-obsessed _whores_.

I was about to say something – using quite strong language, I'm sure - until I glanced behind her back. She had her right hand behind her back, fingers crossed. Oh…shit.

For the record, I regret everything I said. Every fucking word.

Trent nodded. "Then I'll leave you alone forever. Deal?"

"Yes. I'm sure it'll work out for all of us." She nodded. Glancing at the ground, trying to keep some sort of poker face.

They grasped their swords tighter, and started hitting each other with the swords. Keeping his word, Trent dropped his sword. Gwen smacked him off of the tower.

_Awesome_.

++++++++Gwen's Perspective++++++++

I watched Trent fall off of the water tower. Oh. I felt bad. What if he broke his neck? Or spine?

I erased the thought from my head.

As Trent hit the ground with an "oof", Duncan climbed up towards the tower. I stared.

"Where the hell were you ten minutes ago?" I asked. His expression grew more serious.

"I was climbing my ass off to come save yours." He answered.

I bit my lip. "Right. Sorry."

He shrugged, yet nevertheless leaned in to kiss me.

Wow. This was like a fantasy affair! Like, the guy the princess was _supposed _to wed – sweet, smart – finds a deeper, stronger attraction to the unruly commoner. I think I said that before. But I didn't care.

When I left the water tower, Trent approached me, an ice-pack held to his head. "When are we kissing?"

"I never promised to kiss you," I said like a little smartass.

"Yes, you did."

I re-crossed my fingers and exclaimed, "FLAPDOODLE*!"

**A/N: Hm. Should I write in Duncans POV more often? I dunno. I MIGHT…**

*Yes, "flapdoodle" is a real word that means "nonsense."


	54. Ch54: Prehistory

**A/N: HOLY SHIT! Cody and Noah are based off a **_**That 70s Show**_** episode!! :O**

Oh, thank Jesus. I got invincibility for winning. Duncan and I convinced LeShawna to vote off Trent today (I'd keep The Beast around a little while longer. It was fun messing with her).

Elimination was in the bag. I poked Trent's smug little face on the remote. I leaned over, and poked Duncan's voter-gadget, too.

I looked at the stage. Chris had the envelope in his hand and announced, "Okay, the first award clearly goes to Gwen."

He passed me the award. I opened the foil and started picking at Chris's hair, fossilized in chocolate.

He called, "Courtney, Justin…"

He built up the tension before announcing, "LeShawna…"

Oh, dear. Duncan was in the final two. I quickly found his hand. I held it so tight, I think I stopped blood flow.

The tension ended when, without speaking, Chris tossed Duncan the last award. I loosened my grip on his hand. God, I was relieved.

I watched Trent leave. To keep a positive fan base outside of this shithouse, I frowned and waved him goodbye. I glanced over at Duncan, who was pretty much looking around, clearly out of touch with reality.

Then, something struck me. I nudged Duncan. He turned towards me. "Hm?"

"…what if we make it to the final two?" I asked, sort of terrified.

"No idea."

"I don't know, either."

"I wouldn't think about it."

"Right."

"Nine o'clock?"

"Sure."

When I got there, Duncan instantly asked, "Why were you so nice to Trent?"

"Just so nobody would hate me…or hate me even more." I sighed.

"Nobody hates you. Except for The Beast. And Trent. And possibly Justin."

I sighed. "Exactly my point. Anyway…if you _weren't_ being so polite, what would you do?"

Oh. My time to shine. "I'd tell him I never loved him, first of all. Then I'd say that he looks like a douche, a hobo, and that I always saw him as a dick after his kiss with Heather. And, if he's still not upset, I'll say I slept with you. Four times. Precisely."

"Wow," he grinned, and leaned his head against his open palm. "He'd be in tears."

"He's too soft."

"He's…Silly-Putty soft."

"Indeed."

"Like if you push him, he…he won't even bounce back. There will be a dent in there until you poke it back out."

"Oh, _God_!" I laughed.

"Does it make any sense?"

"Sorta."

We continued mindlessly chatting until finally, I decided it was time to finally go to sleep.

I woke up, and pulled Duncan up with me. "Come on. Today's a reward challenge. Up, up!"

He groaned, and sat up. I dragged him along the path as much as he begged to sleep for ten more minutes. Halfway through, I stopped. Oh, dear, I was a bitch. I bit my lip, thinking of my next move. I simply grabbed his wrist (more specifically, his leather cuff) and dragged him towards me for an extended kiss. It ended up with lots of tongue. Lots and lots of tongue.

Afterwards, I walked to the trailer, got ready, ate a meal bar, and simply sat around waiting for breakfast to come around the corner. I spent the time listening to music.

When it was the time to go the Mess Hall, I dashed out. I just wanted to get today over with. For breakfast, everyone else ate bagels. With no cream cheese. Or butter. Very brutal. Very brutal, indeed.

Ten minutes after breakfast started, Chris entered, wearing a paleontologist's outfit.

Oh, no. _Jurassic Park_.

Let me get one fact straight – I hate that film. It all started when I had to read that book for reading class in eighth grade. I had no idea what was going on in the book. The only time I actually paid attention was when the raptor cut that one guy's abdomen and his intestines fell out.

It made me grin quite devilishly.

Well, needless to say, I didn't do so well on the weekly exams, to check if you're actually reading the book.

It's really sad, when one of the best students in the class can't even read a book about a ridiculous experiment on a fairy-tale island. Maybe it's my hatred with science fiction and _Star Trek_.

"Hello, final five!" Chris announced.

"Today's reward is a big one," Chris pointed out. "It will be revealed when the winner succeeds."

Hm. Sort of exciting. I turned to Duncan, and shrugged. I asked, "What do you think it is?"

"It's probably a shitty reward," he pointed out, "that he's trying to disguise as a paradise."

I nodded. He was probably correct.

"Today's challenge is prehistoric themed. In the costume hall, there will be five outfits you must wear in order to compete."

"What if we don't _want_ to compete?" The Beast asked, texting on her PDA. "I'd rather sit around on my PDA, _thank you very much_."

"If you don't compete, you won't win." Chris informed her. My eyes lit up.

She immediately protested, "No, no, thank you. That's alright."

Chris smiled smugly and then asked, "What are you waiting for? Get moving!"

I stood up and looked at the outfits. Ooh. I saw one that was made of a fuzzy – yet heavy – black fur. I immediately grabbed it and ran into the changing booth. It was delightfully fuzzy. I stood up on the bench and called, "Duncan?"

I heard his voice from another changing booth. "What?"

"What color did you pick?"

"The red one."

"I see."

"And you?"

"Black."

"Figures."

He knew me so well. I exited the booth, and Duncan came out. I looked at him. It was…so…bad.

"Oh, dear." I laughed.

"Oh, shut up," he said. "At least mine doesn't look like a hooker wearing a shag carpet."

I glared, until he reassured me, "Kidding."

"I hope." I told him. He smiled, and followed me out.

We left, exiting to five bonfires. We had to apparently light them. Naturally, like the "cave people".

At this moment, The Beast exited in the sluttiest prehistoric dress I could imagine. It was a pink leopard print, strapless, short, with a small slit up her right leg, and jewelry made out of bone.

"Are you fucking joking?!" I asked aloud. She simply shrugged, smiling smugly.

Chris then handed us two rocks. "Okay, figure out a fire."

I grasped the two stones in my hands, and listened for the whistle. I did hear it, and started scraping the rocks together. They didn't form any spark whatsoever. "Damn stones!"

I started scraping them faster. No cigar. Soon, the whistle blew, and Chris exclaimed, "We have a winner!"

I turned. Duncan's bonfire was burning pretty fucking well.

He won the challenge – an advantage. A larger bone in the next challenge. The bone would serve as a prehistoric polo stick.

Duncan would go last against whoever rose above everyone else in the polo tournament. They stood on tall, Styrofoam pillars disguised as rocks. Below them was a tar pit. Oh, God.

First challenge was Justin against LeShawna. It was honestly funny watching LeShawna pound Justin into the pit of tar below. He fell into the tar; the sticky mess sticking to his skin.

"Holy crap!" he exclaimed. "My perfect skin! My perfect hair! My perfect face! My _perfect modeling career_! All ruined!"

I grinned at his defeat. Now, LeShawna would face…me.

I got the bone and looked at her. "Ready?"

"Ready as ever, girl."

We started smacking each other with the bones, laughing the whole time, until I knocked her off. "Ah! That was fun! Sorry, LeShawna!"

She was still laughing. "Whatever, girl."

Now, I faced…the Beast. I looked at her and grasped the bone tight in my hands.

I hit twice as hard. She tried to hit my off, but one final blow to her gut caused her to fall straight off. I stood up and cheered, "Take _that_, you whore!"

She stared at me, growling, and tried to shake all of the tar off. She came to no avail.

"Ugh! I _hate_ you!" she exclaimed.

"Thank you!" I called after her.

Oh. _Shit_. I was facing Duncan next. Oh, well. This could either get really fun, or really competitive. Hopefully, it would go well.

Duncan got up on the pillar and said, "Ready, babe?"

"Yup."

I could hear The Beast growl.

I grabbed the bone and started hitting him with the bone. It was hard, but it was actually kind of fun. That's until we hit each other simultaneously. We both fell back, and when bouncing back from the blow, our lips met.

This was really nice. We locked lips for a moment or two, until I took him by surprise by hitting his leg with the bone. He fell, and thankfully landed on his feet in the tar. It only went up to about mid-shin.

I leaned over and apologized, "Sorry, hon!"

He shrugged and said, "Whatever?"

I grinned, and got down from the pillar. I then asked, "So do I win?"

"Indeed. You win a luxury dinner out…" Chris informed me. He then finished, "…for two."

My eyes lit up. "I choose Duncan."

He grinned, and climbed out of the tar pit, shaking the tar off of his legs. "And where are we going?"

"Cheesecake Factory," Chris told me.

Yay! I'm getting CHEESECAKE! I was so fucking ecstatic about this!

He nodded, and put his hands in his pockets. "Cool."

"Sounds nice," I told Chris.

I was so excited for tonight.


	55. Ch55: Cheesecakes

**A/N: Krist Noveselic, John Lennon, Max Green, Bryan Donahue. :D (read on. You'll get it then.)**

We got dressed in our usual clothes, and headed off to the Cheesecake Factory in a limousine. We drove in a real limousine, not the shitty one that drives the losers off to the resort.

I had my legs over his lap in the back of the car. We simply talked.

"So," he asked, "does this place only serve cheesecake?"

"No," I replied. "I'm getting a salad, a sirloin, and a slice of cheesecake."

"Ah. I might get…holy fuck. Do they have _lobster_?!"

"Probably."

"Ooh. I want lobster. I demand lobster."

I smiled. "It's expensive."

"So? The producers pay. I can buy fifteen lobsters."

"Oh, God." I fell back. Honestly, I don't like seafood. I hate the taste and the thought of a poor, dying fish just killed me. I refused to consume anything that lives in the sea.

We arrived at the restaurant. It was…fancy. Everyone wore semi-formal outfits, while we just wore band shirts and jeans. We stood out, big-time. It was actually quite hilarious.

"Poor us," Duncan said, looking at the door. "No more BJ girls."

"Or fat tourists." I sighed. Everyone around us was probably staring, wondering what the hell we were talking about.

Silly rich people.

We got the food we wanted, and simply talked for the rest of the time. The food was huge, though – even the salad filled me to the rim, even before I had the steak. The steak was served with a vegetable side, even though I didn't want them.

Duncan got a lobster tail thing. It was sickening, listening to the knife crunch through the shell of the poor, dead crustacean.

I stared and said plainly, "Lobster murderer."

"Cow slaughterer." He said back.

"Touché."

The waiter came by and offered dessert. We took a slice of cheesecake.

It looked more like a cake than a regular slice. We were sharing the slice, sometimes sword fighting with our forks.

It was so casual. It was hilarious with all of the stares from other people. Maybe because of our gothic looks? Probably.

It was still the most hysterical thing I've ever seen.

We came back, with leftover lobster (Duncan brought a second one to eat back here). Duncan put it in the mini fridge in the trailer (however, it was mostly empty. Poor mini fridge).

On the top of the box, he wrote in Sharpie marker, "_The one who steals my lobster will get a punch in the face and EARLY FUNERAL ARRANGEMENTS. Love, Duncan._"

The love between a lobster and a boy cannot be broken.

We were in the guy's cabin, talking. Justin was…gone for some reason. Which was ultimately convenient. We locked the door and made out the whole time he was gone – it was just a few minutes, but it was still sweet.

Later that night at our spot, we just made out some more and fell asleep there.

I woke up to a loud, booming guitar chord.

Every morning just had to be ruined by Chris's challenge intros.

I sat up, and nudged Duncan awake.

++++++++_Duncan's Perspective_++++++++

Nudge. Nudge. Nudge.

God, she will never stop. I opened my eyes, but the sun hit _straight_ into my eyes. I tried opening my eyes, but snapped them shut again.

Nudge.

I sat up, despite the light, and looked at her.

"Challenge started," she told me.

I sat up, and she slid off of my lap.

"Okay," I shrugged and got up. I helped her up, and we went back to the trailers to get changed.

I came out, and soon, she came out, too. We ran to the Mess Hall. Chris was in there, dressed as David Bowie – eye bleach needed – holding a guitar.

++++++++_Gwen's Perspective_++++++++

Oh, dear. Music challenged. And not even good music! Like, 80's era. Or _Dirty Dancing_. Damn it.

I looked at Duncan. He looked revolted.

"Okay! Come to the stage for your first challenge, now that…most of you are done eating." Chris said, while pointing towards the direction of the stage.

Once Duncan and I walked out, we spotted the stage. There were five Guitar Hero controllers on there.

Oh, yeah. Playing _Guitar Hero_ is so badass-rockstar.

We walked up there, and grabbed a guitar. I took a red-and-white classic one. Duncan took – of course – the skull-shaped one.

When everyone else made it, Chris put the Quickplay mode on "Random Song".

We ended up playing _Through the Fire and the Flames_ by Dragonforce. Damn it! I hate the Beastie Boys so much. Emphasis on _hate_.

Honestly, I never played Guitar Hero before. I sucked. Duncan was only playing every few notes, looking totally un-amused by the game. The Beast was totally shredding the guitar. She played behind her back…and with her _teeth_. My God!

At the end of the game, Duncan smashed his guitar to _pieces_. Sparks flew everywhere. I stared.

The Beast tried avoiding the sparks. She did.

"And the winner is Duncan!" Chris exclaimed. The Beast was in shock.

"Excuse me?!?!" she exclaimed. "I hit _every note_! He hit every _tenth_ note! I played behind my back! I played with _my teeth_!"

"But you tried too hard," Chris told her. "Duncan…pretty much didn't do anything. Except for smash the guitar."

He turned to Duncan. "That. Was. Awesome."

Duncan grinned smugly and left the stage.

"That was a really cool move," I told him. "Sparks were everywhere."

"I know," he agreed, and we walked to the next set.

We came up to a red carpet, dotted with cardboard figurines. A few "groupies", paparazzi, and crazed fans covered the carpet.

Shiver.

The Beast was first, for being runner up. She gracefully avoided every shot, every fan, and actually signed all of the autographs.

It was amazing. She was like, a superhuman. With a bitchy attitude.

Next was Duncan. Ooh. This was going to be exciting.

He…yeah. He avoided every camera, and flipped _every_ figure off.

Ooh. My boyfriend would be an awesome rock star. Maybe a drummer.

No. _Bassist_. Guitarists are totally cliché, yet bassists are practically the same thing, yet they're not that overrated. To prove my point, name four bassists. From memory. Then name four guitarists.

Exactly. Nobody remembers the bassists.

Afterwards, it was my time. I simply ran the course, signed two of the five autograph books thrust in my direction by hydraulic-powered robotic arms (it's like _Mythbusters_!).

I finished. Slower than everyone else, due to my frail, petite body. I wasn't built to run. I was built to sit cross-legged on the floor while sketching and drawing. That was probably my purpose in life. Good thing, too – that's honestly my only hobby.

Justin walked through like it was a breeze. He posed for every camera, and pretty much acted like his attention-whore self. He was…super slow. LeShawna was slow, too, but faster than Justin. Definitely.

At the end – in another surprise result – Justin won. The Beast, predictably, threw a bitch fest.

"But I was the _fastest!_" she complained. "I avoided every camera and everything! I'm the winner…_again_!"

Duncan rolled his eyes.

"Did we ever say you had to avoid the paparazzi?" Chris asked. Oh, this was _bullshit_. Every E.T. episode I ever watched had the celebs running away from the cameras…not approaching them. Apparently, I'm wrong. "Celebrities are all about _publicity_. Any publicity is good publicity. They always try to pose for the camera. You know, get themselves out there."

"Who the hell follows those standards?" I asked. "Jessica Simpson?"

Chris glared.

Oh. He meant _himself_. Figures.

"Fine. Final challenge. In this challenge, Justin gets a ten-second lead." Chris announced, and pointed towards the room at the end of the red carpet.

It was a simple, nice looking hotel room. It was much better than that Toronto motel Duncan and I snuck into previously. It was very neat. I could swear the glossed, wooden headboard sparkled.

"Your challenge here is to do more destruction than your fellow rockers." Chris told us. "Justin, you go first."

Justin started by knocking over a plant. It _just_ hit the tip of his toe. He immediately flipped his shit. "MY TOE!!! IT'S FREAKING SCRAPED!"

I sighed in frustration. He called himself flawless – his flaw was his obsession about him having no flaws.

…I doubt that made sense. But, shall we continue despite that?

He spent the remaining nine seconds freaking out about his toe. Soon, the doors opened and Duncan and I immediately started knocking down all the dressers and smashing the bulbs in all of the lights. We even smashed the mirror on the vanity.

The Beast beat us by knocking down the plywood walls the set was made out of.

Oh, dear.

And that, dear children, is how the Beast who couldn't win anything won invincibility.

I know. It's totally unfair. I spent dinner glaring at her. She smirked at her victory all night, until elimination.

Okay. Duncan and I were eliminating Justin. Why? He was irksome, and Courtney had invincibility.

I had no clue who everyone else was voting for. Hopefully, everyone agreed it was Justin's time to skedaddle.

The results printed, and I exhaled deeply. Chris read off the names, one by one.

"Courtney…" he called, and threw her the figurine.

"…LeShawna…Duncan." He read the names off, and threw them.

Oh, no. It came down to me and Justin.

_Come on_, I thought to myself, _this is sure-fire_.

There was a long pause. "…Justin."

And that's when I felt every bone in my body just split.

No. No, no, no, no.

"You're kidding…right?" I choked.

He shook his head. "I'm afraid not."

At this point – I never thought it'd come to this – I wasn't upset over losing the money. I was upset over losing five fucking days with Duncan.

This was horror.

++++++++_Duncan's Perspective_++++++++

No. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

This could not be happening. This had to be a miscount. I stared at the stage. Oh, my God.

But it wasn't. Everything was crystal-fucking-clear.

I walked with Gwen down the carpet, feeling more upset than I can remember. This was terrible. Once she gets in that limo, I _know_ I'm officially going to be surrounded by all the people I hate.

Which now includes LeShawna. In order for Gwen to be eliminated, she had to eliminate the girl, too, along with Justin and Courtney.

Bitch. That was all I could say about the three of them.

After the longest – and most painful – hug that I ever had, I could pretty much collapse at any moment.

I'm usually not this fucking soft. I have no clue why this is happening _now_.

Usually, in the stupid movies my sister watches on "ABC Family" while I'm glued to the couch on my laptop, the bad actresses say seemingly-profound shit like, "Sometimes, there are certain feelings people can dig feelings out of you – feelings you thought were nonexistent."

Then I laugh, and Amber glares at me, punches my arm, and exclaims, "You just don't understand _love_, you dick."

Honestly, now, I think I do.

Take _that,_ Amber.

**A/N: Truth be told – I actually got that "ABC Family" quote from a VH1 special on Kurt Cobain. XDDDD I'm so fucking weird…!!!**


	56. Ch56: Solitude, Documented

I'd rather die.

Seriously. Kill me. I didn't want to go back to the hotel, for many reasons. First of all, Trent.

Enough said, I suppose.

Second of all, I hate the thought of being separated from Duncan for a week. This was horror…pure horror.

The limo ride was silent. The chauffer offered the radio, but I declined. I just needed silent. I needed something soft to just hold and never release.

Once I got out of the limo, I mumbled a, "Thank you" towards the driver, and dragged my bags up.

Bridgette, Cody, DJ, and Geoff (Geoff and Bridgette were surprisingly not kissing) stood, probably to greet me. At least I had a group of friends here at the moment – not just Duncan by my side.

Bridgette immediately asked, "What the hell happened back there?!"

I couldn't take silence myself anymore. "I have no idea! Justin and Courtney fucking kicked me off, and for that to be _possible_, LeShawna must've, too! Because Duncan and I _both voted for Justin_! I saw him, so no fucking 'what if he did' scenarios! And I'm one-hundred-and-fifteen percent _positive_ I voted for him, too! This is fucking terrible!"

I exhaled and looked up at them. They were shocked. I squeaked, "Sorry to take it out on you guys."

They were silent for a moment until Geoff's eyes widened a bit in realization. "Oh, yeah. How did that _happen_ with you and Duncan?"

"No idea." I lied. As I signed in at the receptionist's desk, I continued, "You know. When you're that close to someone, you just…follow your instinct. And apparently, my instinct was to kiss him."

"That's a weird answer," Cody said.

"Answers can be weird. But are they usually true?" I asked. "Indeed. They are."

I heard him whisper under his breath, "…what…"

I sighed. "Look. I'm really sorry, you guys…but can I just be alone? I'm still…sort of in shock."

I sighed and walked towards the elevator. My room was room 351. So, third floor.

I got on the elevator. There was a little TV in there, streaming news and weather. I watched it until it stopped on the floor my room was on.

I dragged my bags out, and once I arrived at the door labeled, "_Suite 351_", I dropped my bags at my feet and swiped the card in the door. The lock hatched open, and I swung the door open, dragging my bags inside and locking it again.

++++++_Day 1 of Solitude_++++++

I simply picked up the bags, tossed them in the closet, and stared at my room. A queen bed with a nice little TV and a little deck, overlooking the cool-looking swimming pool.

I was too sad to be excited about this. I glanced over at the basket on my bed. They had some cool stuff in there, fit to my liking – a gift card to "f.y.e." (a good electronics chain. They had a great CD selection), hotel shampoos re-gifted, and dark chocolate. Even my _phone_ was in there, fully charged and all.

Even that wasn't enough to make me happier. I turned on the TV. _The Office_ was on.

It cheered me up a bit. But not even every quizzical look from Jon Krasinski _ever_ can make me happier.

I wasn't "sob sad". I was just moping.

I picked up my phone and went on AIM Mobile. Maybe Duncan was online.

He wasn't. I felt even more upset.

Maybe to relieve my spirits, I texted his phone. I got his number while we were at Playa de Losers. I felt that texting would just let me vent out how I was feeling.

"_Hi. Hopefully you snuck your phone in the set. Hopefully. –Gwen._"

I heard a phone go off in the room next to me. It was some extreme song I didn't know of. At least Duncan's room was next to me. At least when he came back – winner or not – we'd be hotel room neighbors.

++++++_Day 2 of Solitude_++++++

I was too bored to do anything on Day 2. I texted Duncan's phone again.

"_I'm sorry. I'm just lonely and I don't feel like texting anybody but you. You MUST promise me…don't read any more texts you get from me…no matter how fucking insignificant I say I feel. –Guess Who._"

I shut my phone. After a minute or two of silence and boredom – I opened my phone again and wrote a text message, sending it shitloads of people, like Pixie Corpse, Reaper, Marilyn, Michelle, and even Alex (to remind you, he's my brother).

"_Hey. I'm off. /3 I love you all so fucking much. Even Alex [sometimes]. Text me back. I feel so fucking BLANK, like someone totally erased my feeling for everything. –Gwen."_

Michelle immediately texted back. She didn't care about my feelings…obviously. Her question was totally expected, yet…I was too empty to care.

"…_did you get around to fucking Greenie?"_

I texted back my response. "_4 times._"

Pixie responded, "_SHIT! O, well. To look on the brite side, I hope you and your bf are happy. He seems cool. Hope I can meet him. :] ~PixieCorpse~_"

Pixie Corpse looking on the bright side…wow. That's something she never did.

Alex said back, _"CRAAAAAAAAPP!!! COME HOME!!!! MOM IS ANNOYING ME DRYYYYYYY. *aLeXaNdEr*_"

…What the fuck was that?

Instead of texting me, Reaper and Marilyn called.

First of all, you know that gay guy from _Family Guy_? The one with the brown mustache, the piercing, and the jean vest? The one with the funny voice that makes me smile every time I hear it…even though I hate _Family Guy_? They called impersonating him. They know I can't resist laughing hysterically.

"Ohhhhhh noooooo!!! That's a shocker, Gwensicle! Oh, well. It was a nice try, Gwens. Want some ice cream? Maybe some sprinkles? Chocolate syrup? Yummy. Or…oh! Oreo!" they asked. I grinned, but I didn't laugh.

In his regular voice, Reaper added, "Oh, Gwen. That sucks. You know…they're all just _dicks_ over there. Hear me?"

I froze. He corrected himself, "Besides…him."

I couldn't help but sigh. Whenever something bad happened with a guy I know, I didn't like them saying his name. Not in this situation. "Say it, Reap. I need something good to hear."

"Okay?"

"Yeah. Go on. Marilyn, too."

They both emphasized the name "Duncan" whenever it was necessary to mention it. "Well, I know you're upset. After losing DUNCAN and all. But look – you have a shitload of friends here…and DUNCAN. You'll see DUNCAN soon. Don't fret. Try coming home as soon as possible…hey, where does DUNCAN live, anyway?"

"Camden," I answered.

"Ooh! DUNCAN lives pretty damn close!" Marilyn exclaimed, clearly excited. "DUNCAN seems pretty fucking awesome. Is he like…all badass like he _sounds_? Or is he just a poser?"

"Oh, he's legit. He has his sweet spots, though."

"Oh! DUNCAN sounds awesome…hey, can we get him over in Philly?"

"Maybe. His parents seem strict, though…they're dedicated cops, you know. They're in charge of the whole shindig, I think."

She started laughing. "Whoa! A delinquent being the _son_ of the two police chiefs? That's funny!"

"It's not. It's terrible."

"Why exactly?"

"Because _Duncan_ not being _here_ makes me MISERABLE!"

"Oh…"

After a pause, Reaper said, "Hey, we gotta go. We're going to go see _The Hangover_."

"Tell me how it was, you guys."

"Definitely!" Marilyn exclaimed, and hung up. I think that whole "Hangover" thing was all bullshit. I felt emptier.

++++++_Day 3 of Solitude_++++++

I tried listening to "My Apocalypse". It was a good _Escape the Fate_ song I pretty much adored.

It did nothing to cheer me up. I listened to softer choices by _The Smashing Pumpkins_. I felt a bit better. Well, only a week left (at maximum) until Duncan arrives. Maybe he'll arrive tonight?

I waited until six-thirty. That's when the losers usually arrive. Justin arrived instead of Duncan. Lindsay and Beth immediately saw the model and started putting their hands all over him. I sighed, and left to go back upstairs and mope some more.

++++++_Day 4 of Solitude_++++++

I went swimming. I swam about thirty laps until Justin hopped in. The pool was flooded by admirers. I left, not interested in Justin's abs or anything.

This was surprising. The first time he came here, I thought he was _gorgeous_. Irresistible. Now, he was just…dirt.

I went back to my hotel room, showered, watched TV, texted some more people, and went to bed at eight.

It felt like summer again. At least, summer without the air conditioner whirring in my ear and my brother annoying me to no end with his persistent nagging, hoping for me to play Wii with him or something.

I texted Duncan yet again. "_You're perfect. You know that, right? Just reassuring you. Justin is DIRT to me nowadays. You're amazing. –As Expected_"

++++++_Day 5 of Solitude_++++++

It was Saturday. I awaited the loser. The doors opened to reveal…LeShawna. I angrily left. I didn't want to even _glimpse _at her.

Tonight, I stayed up to watch SNL. It was pretty funny.

The screen then turned black, and the words, "An SNL Digital Short" popped up.

The short started with Andy Samberg pouring cereal into a bowl. Soon, a prize fell out of the box. He held it up. It read, "_Boat Ride for 3_".

I knew where this was going. I can burst into tears any moment. I didn't want to watch it. I knew I would cry at one point.

Nevertheless, I listened to it again. I actually smiled. I found it funny the third time around.

Flippie-floppies. I'm adding that to my terminology.

I texted him again. I'm probably costing myself useless 2 cents texting someone who won't text back. "_I get that boat song now. Flippie-floppies. –Gwen."_

++++++_Day 6 of Solitude_++++++

Okay! Halfway through the ten days maximum! I poked my stomach. I probably gained one or two pounds. I ran to the fitness room and used that stair-climbing thing. It was fun. I climbed for ten minutes until getting dehydrated. I bought water from the vending machine in the lobby and gulped it down.

I went back up to my room. I got a boatload of texts – even one from Natasha, one of the most popular girls at school.

"_OMG GWEN! its Natasha clemmingfield!!! From skool! I heard about the whole reality thing. that's 2 bad /3 see you in september, I guess!!!!!!_"

I dislike her. Either way, I replied, "_thanks._"

Bored again, I texted Duncan. This was like, 12 cents wasted. Right here. "_Bored. As usual. This may sound weird, but I hope you lose or I come back. Because I can't stand this. I MUST talk to you. Somehow. –Gwens_"

++++++_Day 7 of Solitude_++++++

In an attempt to get me out of my room and spark my social life up again, Cody offered a game of pinball. He paid. I decided to take it.

We spent the afternoon playing pinball…and hacking it for free.

He showed me how to unlock an arcade game machine without the key – some complicated thing to do with the lock - so you could steal the money that lied within and play it forever. It was dork fun. He won highest score, but in my defense, I came in a very close second.

That was probably the most excitement I had all week. Only…holy crap! My math was wrong. Totally, hopelessly wrong. Cody pointed out my mistakes and revealed to me that _The Beast and Duncan were in the final two_.

It would be a blessing if Duncan won. Unfortunately, it would be terror if the Beast won.

Tomorrow was the finale! At the "Aftermath" set! I was excited beyond anything I could possibly imagine.


	57. Ch57: The Final Fight

**A/N: Hello! Good news, and bad news.**

**Bad news: **_**Bracelets **_**ends here. /3 Woe is…everyone.**

**Good news: THE SEQUEL IS OUT.**

**Yes, sirs and madams. The link to the sequel is after the final chapter. :D**

**Haha. You wouldn't think I would quit the whole story HERE, would you?! Dude, I had weird visions of Duncan going to college!!!!! 0.0 Of COURSE I'm not stopping it here…XD**

Everyone sat on the bleachers on the other side of two comfortable looking chairs. In the middle was the couch where Chris, Bridgette, and Geoff (the apparent hosts) sat.

I sat down, far away from Trent and LeShawna. I was excited to see Duncan again.

Soon, after the introduction to the show and whatnot, the two emerged from the backstage. My heart was racing.

He came out. I grinned. I couldn't help it, but so many days of loneliness paid off. I wanted to stand up and simply give him the biggest damn hug in the history of hugs, but I couldn't. I had to be seated for the whole thing. I waved toward him though. He spotted me, and winked in return.

Ooh, I hope he wins.

Two montages played of the two competitors, and afterwards, Geoff explained the voting style. "Okay. The eliminated players will act as our jury. You ask a question, the finalists will answer. Easy enough?"

We all agreed, although Lindsay looked a bit puzzled.

"Okay, first up is…Trent." Geoff read.

Trent stood up and said, "Let's say you have a _beloved other_. What if he or she dumped you for being too competitive and went out with someone that I think is totally not right for him or her?"

Duncan snapped, "I would let her go her merry way with that other guy because he's probably right for her after all."

"I'd try to win him or her back. You see, the other person most likely has a certain someone _way _better for him…or her. They're just too stubborn to see it."

"Maybe you _both_ are looking at this the wrong fucking way. What the hell do you know about this _other_ someone—"

"Next question!" Bridgette interrupted. She turned towards Izzy.

"Izzy? You have a question?"

In a really, _really_ fast-paced tone, she said, "Okay! I've really, really, really been getting into amazingly amazing EIGHTIES MUSIC!"

Duncan nodded. Courtney stared at the redhead like she was crazy (truth is that Izzy really is a psychopath).

"Okay! So, if you could name the artist of the following song title, that would be a-rockin'." Izzy said.

They both nodded. Izzy cleared her throat and read out, "Okay, this is an easy one!..._Bad_?"

"MICHAEL JACKSON!" Duncan exclaimed the answer.

"Ding ding ding! Ha, ha!" Izzy laughed. "Okay, um, let's see! Oh, I got it! 'The Wall'!"

"Pink Floyd." Courtney said simply. Duncan glared at her. She smiled smugly.

"Right on!" Izzy exclaimed. "Okay, final one: 'Say it Isn't So'?"

They both froze for a minute until Courtney guessed, "Weezer?"

Izzy imitated the sound of a buzzer. "Ehhh! Duncan, it's all up to _you_!"

Duncan bit his lip, thinking. Come on, hon. You can do this.

"Uh…my parents used to listen to this guy…ugh…um…Daryl Hall?"

"DING DING DING!" Izzy exclaimed, and started laughing. "Wow, you're a MUSICAL GENIUS!"

Duncan smiled awkwardly.

Geoff read, "Okay, next question goes to Harold."

Harold stood up and asked, "What money would you donate to the science field to improve the world for a better tomorrow?"

"I would donate money to stem cell research," Courtney informed him. "It's not funded, but it's _crucial_ in these times."

Wow. She said pretty much absolutely nothing, but the large vocabulary made it _sound _like she was saying something important.

That was politics, all summed up in one sentence.

"Give money to a lab. Cloning. Yippee." Duncan said.

"Are you being serious?" Harold asked skeptically.

"Sure. I just don't want to sound all fancy like The Be—Courtney." Duncan caught himself.

Many other questions like this were asked. Most of them I didn't pay attention to. Then, Geoff called my name. Even though my answer was clear, I asked, "Name my three favorite bands."

Duncan immediately replied, "Nirvana, Escape the Fate, and Smashing Pumpkins."

"Yay. Duncan wins my vote." I said plainly, and sat back down. I got one or two laughs from the studio audience as The Beast stared at me, shocked at my unfairness.

Soon enough, Bridgette said, "Okay. Those are all of the questions asked and answered. Now, the voting will take place right in that booth over there."

She pointed to this adorable little voting booth. "Just write down the name of the person you're voting for, and put it in the jar. That simple."

The voting went in the order of the people who asked the questions. I was near last. Once I got in there, there was a notice saying, "You are being recorded, this footage will be shown on National Television as a CONFESSIONAL."

I rolled my eyes, and explained my choice while scribbling the name "Duncan" down on a slip of paper.

"Courtney's been nothing but a bitch to me for the whole summer," I said, and then dropped my vote into the jar. "And, I'm dating Duncan. I think my answer is quite clear."

I stepped out of the booth and sat down. I balled my hands into fists. This was certainly a nail biter.

Chris grabbed the jar and began reading off the votes.

There were so many votes, I couldn't count them all. The first three were for The Beast – not quite promising – yet the majority was for _Duncan_.

Oh my God.

He won. He _fucking won_. I grinned. I was ecstatic. This…this was ridiculously amazing! Confetti fell, and Duncan was grinning, in surprise. The whole audience _burst_ into fucking applause.

Oh my God. Oh my God. I just ran up and fucking hugged him. I was so damn ecstatic!

I simply screamed, "You're _amazing_! Holy _crap_, I knew you were going to win!"

He laughed, held me tighter, and finally kissed me.

Oh, dear!! He didn't know how much I needed that!!

I totally erased the last few days from my mind. That was a living hell. And now, I'm only looking forward to the future.

"So," Duncan asked. "You're not going on the whole plane?"

"No," I answered, dragging my bags towards the elevator. "My mom's coming to pick me up. She wants to see me 'as soon as possible'."

"God. She missed you that much?"

"Apparently so. My mom can't let one of her kids go for too long. She'll get antsy."

"That must suck."

"Yeah. It does."

From temptation, I simply grabbed Duncan by his shirt collar and dragged him into a small room with the ice maker and such. I simply started kissing him. After our little make-out session, he asked, "And that was for?"

"I dunno. Just one for the hell of it?" I shrugged.

He grinned, stood up, grabbed my hand, and we both walked to the elevator. We tried setting up some impromptu plans for getting together in the future – we decided we'd try to see each other every weekend.

At the end of the elevator ride, I looked outside. My mom's car was parked out there. So was the plane shuttle. I sighed and looked up at him. "I'll see you later, I guess."

"Yeah…" he nodded, and simply kissed me. We both walked out, and as we parted ways, waved.

I climbed into the car. My mom was ecstatic to see me, and I simply said, "Hi, Mom…haven't seen you in ages," and then asked her if she could try to get me home as soon as possible.

~~_The End_~~

**A/N: Here is the sequel…it's entitled "The Real Aftermath". :]**

**.net/s/5652215/1/The_Real_Aftermath**

**Peace Out :D**


	58. Authors Note: FIXED Sequel Link

I'm not sure if the link was right…:\

It looked pretty fucking weird when I posted it. In the address bar, keep the whole "" thing, but replace the numbers and shit at the end with this:

/s/5652215/1/The_Real_Aftermath

Okay, well ciao!


End file.
